


Beauty Comes From Ashes

by NovelistServant



Series: The Crash and Burn AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Mystery, Science Fiction, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 66,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistServant/pseuds/NovelistServant
Summary: The sequel to Crash and Burn. Though Bill is gone, that doesn't mean everything will be sunshine and rainbows forever. Ford will still have to face trials and tribulations, but with his family and friends he can handle it. Right? Rated as such for language and certain themes.
Series: The Crash and Burn AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811626
Kudos: 4





	1. The Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> A special shout-out to Hanzura, who inspired me to finally put my loose ideas together into a story. I hope you guys like it!

_**January 17th, 1983** _

It had been a very long day.

Hephzibah had been up all night, only falling asleep for a quick nap right before the crack of dawn, but she had woken up from a nightmare and had been in no mood to try to go back to sleep, so she had another cup of coffee from the truck-stop and tried to take her mind off of her problems. Obviously, that didn't work, and she went to her job, but then got a call that Stanford wasn't waking up, so she left the hospital and came home. She had the next day off to rest, thank God, but after catching a demon inside her husband's body, running away, going to work, coming back home, going into Stanford's mind, banishing Bill back to where he came from, and having a family meeting with Fiddleford all afternoon, Hephzibah was having a hard time keeping her eyes open by dinner. She kissed Stanford goodnight and left him and Stanley alone to talk in the living room while watching Cash Wheel.

Hephzibah had already slipped out of her clothes and into her light-purple silk pajamas and had brushed her teeth when Stanford came in and closed the door behind him. Hephzibah let her dreadlocks loose from her high-ponytail and set the red scrunchie on her nightstand with a pleasant smile. "Wow, Stanford Pines in bed before midnight. It's a miracle." She said sarcastically.

Stanford chuckled and slipped off his dark-blue turtleneck sweater, revealing a black t-shirt, and he pulled out his blue-flannel pajamas for the cold night ahead of him. "I'm excruciatingly tired."

"N' with good reason." Hephzibah chuckled and slipped under the covers and sat up to chat with her husband.

Stanford smiled lovingly at her, but it turned sour when he saw her wrist. Her sleeves were short, unlike the sweater she wore today, and therefore her wrists were exposed and showed how one of them was coated with a bruise; it looked like someone had grabbed her and squeezed tightly, hurting Hephzibah. He knew where it came from and he was, to say the least, disgusted with himself. He sighed and looked down in shame. "I'm sorry."

Hephzibah was a little confused as to what exactly he was sorry for, but it all clicked in her mind, the way Stanford looked at her and then down, telling her that he knew what Bill did while in Stanford's body. Even though it was too late, Hephzibah slipped her hand under the sheets to hide the bruise from view. "That wasn't your fault, love."

"Yes, it was."

"But ya didn't…"

"No, but if I had never let Bill use my body, that would have never happened." Stanford said, his voice dripping with shame, and he looked down at his six-fingered hands, the ones that dared to touch Hephzibah in a way she didn't deserve. He had looked at his hands in reproach and disgust plenty of times before, but this was different. His hands had hurt Hephzibah.

"That's true," Hephzibah said slowly. "But your heart was in the right place. Ya thought Bill was your friend n' tryin' to help, so ya let him do what he needed in order to help ya best, right? Let's not even mention the fact that it's just a bruise."

"That's not an excuse." Stanford snapped and gritted his teeth together.

"No, it's not." Hephzibah agreed. "But I know ya, Fordsie, n' I know you'd never hurt me. I trust ya."

"You shouldn't."

"I know, but I'm an idiot who's in love."

Stanford looked up at her to snort, but he didn't have the heart to do that when he saw her kind smile. Through the family meeting and talking about what had happened, Hephzibah had been surprisingly mature, patient, and understanding. Yes, there were a few times where she smacked the men over the tops of their heads as punishment for their stupidity, but it was almost always followed by a held hand or a pat on the back to assure them that they were forgiven. Stanford felt that familiar wave of love and appreciation for his wife and he climbed into bed to hug her.

Hephzibah happily hugged him back and held him a little tighter than normal. "I love you, Stanford."

"I love you, too, Hephzibah." Stanford whispered into her shoulder. "So much. And I'm so, so sorry."

"I know." Hephzibah said and rubbed his back. She opened her mouth to say "it's okay", but she decided against that; it wasn't okay to make deals with unholy demons, but she could say this: "I forgive ya."

Stanford held her a little tighter and was comforted by her hand that combed his fluffy brown hair and her other hand that rubbed his back. He slowly sunk into her grip, eventually lying down under the covers with his head in her lap. Hephzibah petted his hair and sat against the headboard of their bed and smiled down at her husband as he hugged her around the waist. Stanford fell asleep like that and soon Hephzibah followed.

* * *

_Stanford was suffocated in darkness. He looked down at his hands and body and gasped to find his flesh now transparent, like a ghost. He looked around the darkness wildly, his heart hammering in his chest and his breathing picking up speed, until his eyes landed on something other than his spirit. Unfortunately what he saw did not calm his nerves._

_Hephzie and Ford were standing in front of each other, far away, and from the looks of it were arguing, but when Stanford curiously floated closer to the scene he saw that the man's eyes were yellow; Bill was possessing his body again, but this time he wasn't asleep. Bill used a six-fingered hand to grab Hephzie's wrist tightly, so tightly she winced and bent her knees a little, at the demon's mercy._

_"Ow! Stop it!" Hephzie demanded. "Ford, lemme go!"_

_The real Stanford was in a state of panic, floating to her and trying to get her attention. "No! Hephzibah, that's not me! I would never… that's Bill! That's not me!" But she was deaf and blind to him. Stanford was practically a ghost in the Mindscape._

_Bill cackled out of his newfound mouth and glared his glowing yellow eyes at Hephzie. "Aw, I like 'em fiery!" And he gave an evil, dangerous sneer that did not look natural on Ford's face. He squeezed even harder on Hephzie's wrist and her hand was beginning to change into an ugly color._

_"No! Stop it!" Stanford shouted. "Let her go!"_

_"Ow, ow, ow! Quit it!" Hephzie yelled and pulled as hard as she could._

_Bill then delivered a fierce left-hook on Hephzie's cheek, and Ford's body was the messenger. Hephzie ceased resisting to glare at her opponent as a line of blood trailed down from her mouth and along her chin. "Why don't you shut up like a good girl, sweetheart, and maybe I'll play nice if you behave." And he licked his lips hungrily._

_Hephzie's eyes widened with horror. "No… no, no! Leave me alone!"_

_Stanford held his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop it, STOP IT! Just leave her alone! Stop hurting her!"_

_"Stanford?"_

_His eyes flew open at the sound of the quiet, timid voice. Ford now suddenly found his wife in front of him, his body was solid again and Bill was nowhere to be found. Hephzie's mouth was still bleeding and she held her sore wrist to try to hide the bruise, but her hand wasn't big enough to hide the way her hand curled inward in pain or the way her wrist and base of her hand was discolored._

_"Stanford, wh… why… what did I do to…"_

_Ford's hand flew to his mouth. He could feel tears roll down his cheeks. He let them fall. "H-Hephzibah, I… I would never… I didn't, I… that wasn't… l-l-let me help y…" He reached forward slowly, but Hephzie quickly drew her hands inward, holding them to her chest, and hurriedly took a step backwards. Her eyes were wide and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Ford felt like throwing up; Hephzie wasn't just afraid of him, she was terrified of him._

_"No, leave me alone." Hephzie said bravely, trying to hide the way her voice trembled, but failed. "Just… forget it, leave me alone." She winced and let a small groan escape her lips, her hand curling in on itself as pain shot through her limb. She turned away from Ford, meanwhile all he could do was cry silently._

_"Hephzibah… please… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"_

Stanford woke up and sat up in bed quickly, panting for oxygen and sweating thickly. Hephzibah was stirred, oblivious to her husband, and honestly she was unsure of what woke her at first, but she had been down this road before enough times to know what was going on and what to do. She sat up in bed slowly and rubbed her eyes and face. "Stanford, honey?"

He jumped out of bed and stood with his hands up in surrender. "I-I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Hephzibah turned on her lamp and looked at Stanford carefully, her face littered with concern. "Whoa, hey, what's wrong? It's okay, it's me."

He swallowed and tried to relax, or at least be better at hiding his anxiety. "I… I know… I know it's you, I just… you…" His mind was going a mile a minute, too fast to really compute anything.

Hephzibah sat patiently, but her eyes grew sad as a thought came to her. "Are ya… afraid of me? Did I do…"

"No!" Stanford yelled, and then quickly lowered his voice. "No, that's not it, no. I… Ijustdon'twantyoutobeafraidofme." He spat out so quickly that it took Hephzibah a moment to digest that.

She smiled softly, understanding what was happening a little bit better. "Stanford, sweetheart, I'll never be afraid of ya. Millions of years from now that fact won't change. I love ya too much to be afraid of ya."

"WHY?!" Stanford screamed as his eyes filled with tears. "Why do you still love me at all?! After everything I've done to you?! I lied to you, I HURT you! How can you even stand to be in the same room as me?!"

"Stanford, you're hyperventilatin'." Hephzibah pointed out, worried for his safety, and she held out her hand to him. "C'mere, let's just talk, like we always do, okay? Please?"

It was too much, it was all too much. How could someone be so forgiving and loving to someone who has wronged them in so many ways? Stanford collapsed; he threw himself on the edge of the bed, on his knees while he folded his arms on the edge of the bed and hid his face in his arms, and he burst into tears.

All the overwhelming emotions, all the pain and suffering and betrayal he had been through the past few weeks, were crashing down, like a damn that had burst, and Stanford was crying over it all, not just over his disbelief in his wife's loyalty and love.

Hephzibah held her breath. Only a few times had she seen this side of the man she loved, and even fewer times had anyone seen this side of him at all; Hephzibah guessed that the only person who might be more experienced in this matter was Stanley. Still, she knew what to do, or at least thought she did, and so she gave her husband a minute or two to let it all out healthily before petting his fluffy brown hair.

"Stanford," She said quietly. "Listen to me. I love ya n' I always will, nothin' will change that…"

"But why?" He moaned and looked up, only freeing his eyes from his arms; he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Cuz I do, that's that!" Hephzibah said firmly and kept a stern face to portray how serious this was to her. "Ya don't get to try to tell me who I can or can't love, alright. That's mine, that belongs to me, not even to ya. N' no one can take that way, especially not Bill, ya understand me?" She used the back of a finger to wipe under Stanford's right eye to try to clean away the tears. "No matter what anyone says, no matter what _you_ say, you're a good person, Ford. You've blessed me in more ways than I can say, not to mention you're handsome inside n' out, n' have a good mind n' strong heart to go with it, so if it's a bad thang to love ya than send me to Hell, cuz I ain't never gonna stop, okay?" Hephzibah asked, her voice much softer now and accompanied by an inviting smile.

Stanford couldn't help but to return the sweet facial expression, his more blushy and timid. "Okay. Okay, my darling." He found the strength to climb up onto the bed and hug her. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for." Hephzibah said light-heartedly. "Can't have my man thinkin' so low 'bout himself, can I?"

Stanford chuckled weakly. "Your man? I believe that is a new one."

"Eh, thought I'd try it out…"

"I like it. Because it's true. I'll always be yours… as long as you'll have me."

"I always will."

* * *

Hephzie was smiling on her way home from work. She got off her motorcycle with a song in her throat and she cheerfully shut her bike down and removed her helmet. The Stanmobile was in front of the house, so the twins were home. Hephzie's smile shifted from peaceful to enjoyment over the idea of seeing her family after a long day at work.

She walked up to the door and opened it before calling into the house, "I'm home!" She hung her helmet on the coat-rack and called to anyone who bothered to listen, "Ya guys just wouldn't believe the day I've had! Emma was released n' in perfect health, n' then I helped Emmanuel with an emergency case. Y'all will love this, it was twins! Mom n' Dad were so happy, two beautiful little girls, n' they only ever stopped cryin' when we kept 'em in the same crib." Hephzie hung up her black-leather jacket and waited for a reply, but heard nothing. She smiled and poked her head into the living room, only to find it empty. "Ford?" She called as she walked to the kitchen. "Stan? Are y'all even home, or am I talkin' to my…"

Hephzie felt like her world had shattered. She stood at the doorway solid as a rock for only a moment until the shock sunk in and she swayed on her feet. She bumped into the left-side doorway and a framed photo of the three of them out on the lake fell and the glass broke, but Hephzie was deaf to it's sound. All she could do was stare as her family was lying on the kitchen floor.

Ford lied on his front, his hand above his head and lying open-palmed, his six fingers just barely curling in on themselves. He laid closest to the door and not too far from his brother, whose back was to Hephzie. There was no blood, no sign of a struggle or an attack, but they lied so still that it looked like they were…

" **NO!** " Hephzie yelled like her heart was broken (there was no doubt that it was) and collapsed to her knees. She couldn't hold herself up anymore. Her body decided to quit working properly since her boys' bodies seemed to have done so, but she made herself crawl to her husband as she prayed that he was alive.

With tears in her eyes, Hephzie sat on her knees and lifted Ford's head up onto her lap and turned him so he lay on his back, but he was deadly still. Hephzie took his hand and gripped it tightly. He didn't grip back. His pulse was still. His breathing was never detected because it was never there.

Hephzie bit her lip and let her tears flow down the side of her face. "No, no, no!" She sobbed and held Ford's hand so she could actively look for a pulse with her fingertips, but it wasn't there. "No, no, NO! Stanford, ya… ya can't do this! Ya can't! Ya were supposed to grow old with me, my… my poor… my…" Hephzie lowered Ford's hand, but never let go. She used her free arm to hug his body tightly by the shoulder and she bent her body so she sobbed on his chest. Hephzie had always been so strong and so careful not to cry, but damn it all! She'll cry over her husband's death, goddammit!

Hephzie petted Ford's brown hair like she always had and slowly kissed his lips; she sobbed even harder when she found that they were a little warm. Hephzie cried as she thought of how Ford had died mere minutes ago. If, whatever had happened, had happened only a few minutes later, Hephzie could have been there and at least say goodbye to Ford, hold him and keep him comforted rather than have him die on the cold floor with…

"Stanley!" Hephzie yelled and looked up at the back of her brother-in-law.

She gently rested Ford on his back on the floor and made herself crawl to Stan. Hephzie put a hand on Stan's exposed shoulder and turned him a little to look at him, but he was motionless and unresponsive. Hephzie bit her lip and made herself check; it was only fair, she checked Ford. Hephzie gently put two fingers on his neck.

"God _damn_ it, NO!" Hephzie howled and hugged Stan close to her chest. "No, no, please! I know wherever one goes, the other goes, too, but… damn it, it isn't fair!" Hephzie wailed like a child and hugged Stan tightly, like if she hugged tight enough he would hug back, but he never did. "Aw, Stanley, ya… I should've… my poor little brother… y'all were the only family I had left!" Hephzie cried and she looked at Stan's face. He was so peaceful. There was no sign of pain or fear in his final facial expression. Hephzie looked back at Ford and found the same thing. What the hell happened? Had they both fallen asleep, collapsed on the floor, and never woke up? Had some new anomaly taken her family away and left her alone?

"Ya knuckleheads," Hephzie whimpered as she tried to wipe the tears from her face, but they were replaced with new ones, so what was the point? "Why'd ya have to leave me all alone, huh? You're my entire world."

Hephzie felt a chill go down her back when she heard a distinct high-pitched laugh. Hephzie suddenly had an idea of what caused her family's premature, peaceful death. Hephzie felt a shadow loom over, and she turned to confront it, but then she woke up.

Hephzibah opened her eyes and lied still. This wasn't a frantic nightmare where she woke up short of breath like she had just run a marathon; this was the kind of dream you wake up from and then lie awake wondering what the hell is wrong with you. Hephzibah did just that. She put a hand to her heart. Yup, it was definitely beating too fast. The vision itself didn't feel too realistic, but the feeling she had did. That overwhelming grief, that sickening sensation of loneliness, that feeling like her heart had been snapped in two, it was all so real and she still felt it. Like a child in the dark, Hephzibah suddenly felt very alone and wanted somebody, anybody!

Numb from the overpowering emotions that plagued her soul, Hephzibah slowly turned her head and listened. She saw her husband's sleeping form. She heard his snoring. It was constant and small, like the purring of a cat while it was being petted. Hephzibah smiled when her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw that Stanford was lying so he faced her, one arm under his pillow and the other resting on the bed. He looked (and sounded) like he was sleeping peacefully. Hephzibah was beyond grateful for that.

She didn't need confirmation that Stanford was alive or that she wasn't alone, so she was happy to watch Stanford sleep. Hephzibah turned so she lied on her left side, facing her husband, and smiled peacefully. As content as she was to just look at Stanford at the start, a small desire for a little more crept up on her until she gently covered Stanford's left hand with her right and grazed it with her thumb. Stanford kept snoring soundly, thank goodness, but after a few minutes Hephzibah came to terms that she wanted to fall back asleep against his chest, so she edged closer to him and lied so she was curled up against his side. At peace, Hephzibah closed her eyes for more rest.

Hephzibah was almost asleep when Stanford's snoring stopped, but he wasn't quite fully awake, and his arms wrapped around her and kept her close. Hephzibah smiled and hugged him back before falling asleep.

* * *

It started as a memory that was so real Stanford believed it was happening right in front of him, in real time, in real life.

_One night Hephzibah sat in bed, washed and in her pajamas, and was looking down at her held hands that rested on her lap without really seeing. If Stanford had to guess, she was deep in thought, but she didn't look troubled._

_"Hephzibah, is something wrong?" Stanford asked after he closed the bedroom door and pulled off his black sweater to get ready for bed._

_Hephzibah looked up at him and smiled. "No, just thinkin'."_

_"Ah. About?"_

_Hephzibah took in a deep breath and watched her husband open a drawer for his pajamas. "I was thinkin' 'bout how I was gonna tell ya that I'm pregnant, but I thought it might be best to just say it."_

_Hephzibah had spoken so casually and had said it in such a calm manner that it took a minute for Stanford to register what she had said. He whipped around with a dropped jaw to look at his wife and his kind face formed the biggest grin Hephzibah had ever seen, right next to the one he wore when she said yes to marrying him._

_"What?!" Stanford hissed happily, only quiet so Stanley wouldn't hear, but if given the chance he would have yelled to the top of his lungs. "Really?!"_

_Hephzibah nodded and opened her mouth, but Stanford hurried around the bed to her side and got on his knees to hug her tightly. His grip loosened as he had a fear in the back of his head that he would hurt the baby, but he continued to hug his wife as he laughed nervously into her chest. Hephzibah hugged him back and petted his fluffy brown hair._

_"Oh, Hephzibah, this is… that's amazing!"_

_"You're really excited 'bout it?" Hephzibah asked with a nervous chuckle._

_"Of course I am!" Stanford said and let go just enough to look up at her like the queen that she was. "I mean… yes, we weren't exactly trying, but we had always talked about having children of our own some day, and I think we're ready."_

_Hephzibah ran her fingers through Stanford's hair gently and said quietly, "I'm so glad you're excited. I know it won't be easy with the portal…"_

_"Oh, we will be finished with the portal by the time the baby gets here." Stanford reasoned and couldn't help but smile even bigger. Just saying that made it feel so real. "And if not, the project can wait."_

_"Stanford," Hephzibah gasped teasingly. "Willin' to put a hold on work?"_

_"Anything for my family." Stanford said seriously, his heart swelling as he was talking about more than Hephzibah and Stanley now. Stanford held Hephzibah close and allowed his head to rest on her lap, not too far from her stomach. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Sweet Lord, a baby… we're going to have a baby… I'm going to be a dad…"_

_"Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart." Hephzibah chuckled warmly, the kind of chuckle that made Stanford feel like he had laid in a hot bath. "You're already a dad."_

_Stanford had no response to that except heavy breaths and he turned his head to bury his face in his wife's abdomen, just where an apple-seed-sized baby laid._

_The next two days Hephzibah was off work. She and Stanford scheduled a doctor's appointment and their plan was to surprise Stanley. On Monday, Hephzibah's doctor's appointment was at ten o'clock and so thirty minutes before the hour the happy couple left for the doctor, returning a little after lunch with anticipation radiating off of them._

_"How's it hanging?" Stanley called from the living room and waved as he sat in his armchair._

_"Hey, Stan," Hephzibah said casually as she hung up her black leather jacket on the coat rack and peeked at the TV. "Oh, new episode?"_

_"Nah, just a rerun." Stanley turned the volume down and asked, "What have you two love-birds been up to?"_

_Stanford and Hephzibah exchanged such quick looks Stanley barely noticed it. "We had lunch after having a special picture developed."_

_"Oh, nice, which one?"_

_"See for yourself." And Stanford pulled out a photograph from his trenchcoat and held it out to his twin._

_Stanley carefully took it so he wouldn't get fingerprints on it; it took him a minute for his eyes to focus on the picture and absorb the image. He had heard Hephzibah talk about work for six years, long enough to know an ultrasound when he saw one. His eyes widened and he leaped out of his chair. "NO! No way!"_

_Hephzibah and Stanford nodded proudly and they were brought into a tight bear hug while Stanley cheered and yelled until his throat was sore and their ears were ringing. Stanford only chuckled and let his brother celebrate being an uncle again._

_The months flew by. By the holidays Hephzibah was showing, but at the end of January Stanford was trapped in the Mindscape. She ignored everyone's warnings and orders and went into battle to try to save her husband. Before anyone knew it, Stanford was in chains and he watched helplessly as his wife was captured, her chin held by Bill and he gazed at her evilly._

_"Well, well, let's see if torturing Mrs. Sixer and Junior here will make you get back to work." And he raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers._

_Stanford screamed like he had never screamed in his life. "NO! NO, NO, PLEASE! LEAVE THEM ALONE, PLEASE! DON'T HURT THEM!"_

_But Bill ignored his old partner's plea and snapped his fingers. Hephzibah wiggled and tossed and turned in her prison as she was tortured mentally. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes and tried not to scream, but soon it became too much and she opened her eyes and gasped in pain that was so overwhelming mentally it was becoming physical. If Stanford hadn't been looking for it, he may not have seen it, but he swore he could see the baby kick and turn in the mother's stomach, trying to ease his pain._

_Tears freely spilled from Stanford's eyes. "NO! I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE, JUST LET MY FAMILY GO!"_

_Bill cackled and squinted his eyes happily. "That's what I thought, IQ, but maybe you need to be taught a lesson, to make sure you don't chicken out again."_

_Stanford struggled against the chains until they drew blood on his wrists and neck. "NO! That wasn't the deal, Bill! Just let them go!"_

_"Don't worry, I'll let_ Dreadlocks _live." Bill said casually and raised his hand again._

_"NO! NO, PLEASE! NOOOOOOOOO!"_

Stanford sat up quickly and ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy and oily. His heart was pounding. He took in a deep breath and counted to ten to calm down. He was nearly completely mellow when he looked to his right, expecting to see his wife, but his heart skipped a beat to see that he was alone in the bed. He hardly had time to freak out before he remembered that Hephzibah was working a five-to-five today. Stanford looked at his clock and saw that it was almost ten o'clock.

The nightmare had been so livid and clear. He hadn't thought about the miscarriage for a few weeks, his thoughts preoccupied. Still… it still hurt. He shivered and he desperately wanted to see Hephzibah, just for some reassurance that she was okay, but reality set in and Stanford knew she was safe. She worked at a hospital, a heavily guarded building flooded with health experts; there was nowhere else safer for her to be, except for maybe home.

Stanford yawned and stretched as he got out of bed and slipped on his slippers. An idea came to mind, an idea that had no room for uncomfortable thoughts or bad visions, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do it. He looked outside briefly through the stained-glass window over his bed; it wasn't snowing anymore, but the soft glow told him that the snow was still on the ground. Stanford smiled and decided to go through with his plan.

After having coffee with Stanley and pleasantly chatting with him while they threw a ball for Everest down the hall, the Saint Bernard taking turns on who to deliver the ball back to, Stanford hopped in the shower and changed into his brown sweater-vest and baby-blue dress-shirt. He also shaved and spruced up with some cologne. After checking his appearance in the mirror and declaring himself fit to go out, Stanford slipped on his trenchcoat, his black scarf, gloves, and hat, and borrowed Stanley's keys and took the red Diablo out into town.

Remembering Hephzibah's favorite flowers, Stanford picked a small bouquet of purple, red, and white tulips from the grocery store and hid them in his trenchcoat carefully when he got out of the car for the hospital. He had never done this before and wasn't sure if he would be allowed to do this, but at least he could see her.

Stanford had been to the hospital one other time, and that was when he had been attacked by the Gremloblin, so he knew generally where to go, but at his last visit he had been dazed, guilt-ridden, and a little panicked. Now he could appropriately appreciate the architecture of the first-floor lobby. The smell of fresh sandwiches graced his nose, as well as brewed coffee, sweet doughnuts, and, for some odd reason, cherry blossom lotion. Stanford journeyed to the back of the vast room for the elevators and read the guide that explained what floors were for which needs. The fifth floor was for babies, newborns, and expecting mothers, so Stanford took an elevator up there and saw Hephzibah's workspace for the first time.

The lobby was crowded with chairs, but it was empty apart from a pair of grandparents who sat with a little boy in front of the small TV that hung from the ceiling. A front desk sat an old lady with her hair up in a bun and a jar of dum-dums by her side. She smiled up at Stanford the minute the elevator doors opened and he walked up to her. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes, I'm looking for my wife, Dr. Hephzibah Pines?"

The old lady gasped happily and said, "You're Stanford?! Oh, Hephzie's told me all about you! I'm Ms. Nelson." And she held out a hand to shake.

Stanford smiled and shook it; he remembered a story or two from work involving this nice lady. "Oh, yes. Hephzibah mentions you quite a bit at home. It's lovely to meet you, ma'am."

"Not as nice it is for me to meet you, sir! Tell me, is the whole twelve PhD thing true, or does she just say that to get the interns to shut up and stay humble?" Ms. Nelson chuckled.

Stanford chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's true. I was… very ambitious in college."

"I should say so, Dr. Pines." Ms. Nelson then laughed and said, "Wow, good thing you don't work here, or that would be confusing!"

Stanford laughed along with her, catching that she was referring to there being two Dr. Pines. "I suppose so. Anyway, where exactly…"

"Oh!" Ms. Nelson pointed down the hall and said, "She's working in Nursery A today, I'm sure she would be more than happy to see you, Emmanuel always loves it when Sherrie pays a visit."

"So I am allowed to steal her away from work for lunch?" Stanford asked with a smile.

Ms. Nelson nodded. "As long as it's during her break and she's back before it's up."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sugar." Ms. Nelson held out the jar of candy and offered him a piece.

Stanford politely took a cherry lolli and put it in his pocket for later. He walked down the hall and kept an eye peeled for Nursery A. He remembered correctly, Hephzibah said that Nursery A was for "normal" births while Nursery B held NICUs and had special equipment for the disabled or premature newborns. Stanford was grateful that she was with the healthy newborns so he wouldn't have to feel guilty for distracting her from new lives that needed her. Then again, if his timing had been accurate and she was due for a break, which was his plan the whole time, then he would have no guilt, simply joining her in her daily routine.

Nursery A wasn't hard to miss; there was a giant sign by a door that told Stanford what nursery it was and there was a giant window displaying the room. Stanford smiled when his eyes instantly found his wife. Hephzibah was bending over a crib and tucking a baby in a soft blanket (it was a girl, Stanford was guessing, because of the pink blanket). Stanford looked down the hall a bit of his left and smiled at seeing a man and woman watching the baby girl being tucked in for a nap. Stanford focused back on his wife and happily watched her work, petting the baby's head softly and when he saw her lips moving he knew she was singing.

When Hephzibah was done she filled out a clipboard hanging from the crib and glanced up at the window before moving onto the next task. Stanford bit his lip to keep from laughing when she did a double-take and stared at her husband. He waved and Hephzibah grinned and waved back, and then pointed to a door on the farther end of the window. Stanford met her there and hugged her. He was cautious to hug her in a way that wouldn't squish the hidden tulips, but he still hugged her tightly and grinned. His back-seated anxiety had jumped out of the car.

Hephzibah let go and gasped, "Whatcha doin' here, Fordise?! Is everythang okay?! Is Stan hurt?!"

Stanford laughed and shook his head after taking a minute to understand what was going through Hephzibah's head. "No, no, my darling, he's fine." Stanford pulled out the small bouquet and said, "I just wanted to take you out to lunch, that's all."

Hephzibah's jaw dropped and her eyes sparkled like stars. Stanford's only regret was that he hadn't done this years ago. Hephzibah gently took the tulips and said in a voice smoother than silk, "Oh, Stanford, they're beautiful. Thank you. I'd… I'd love to go out, but I already had my break."

Stanford's smile dropped for a second, but then he quickly picked it back up. It wasn't her fault she had already taken her lunch break for the day. He pocketed his hands in his trenchcoat and said, "Oh, I… that's alright. I'm sorry, I should have called you."

"No, no, I'm sorry, honey. This is really sweet."

Stanford smiled when he detected that she felt as guilty as he felt. "It's nothing, I'm just happy to see you for a minute."

"Well, if ya want, ya can stay with me n' give a hand." Hephzibah offered and jabbed a thumb back to the nursery.

Stanford blinked like a confused owl. "Wh-What, you mean... work with the newborns?"

"Ya don't have to, ya can just sit in one of the rocking chairs n' keep me company if ya want, but if not that's fine…"

Stanford grinned over the idea of watching his wife work. She did such an amazing job and it made him swell with pride to see her do what she loved. "That's a great idea! I would love to watch you work!"

"Great! Just wash up n' c'mon in!" Hephzibah said, jabbing a thumb to the sanitizer bottle by the door, and went into the nursery.

Stanford did as he was told, disinfecting his hands, and walked into the room and let the door close behind him. The nursery only had two patients today, the baby the man and woman were watching through the window and a fussy little Indian baby with mittens on his hands and his hat off by his head. He didn't really cry, but he wiggled in his crib and was upset about something.

Stanford watched as Hephzibah cooed sympathetically and cupped his cheek to calm him down. "Aw, what's wrong, love? C'mere, up ya go." Hephzibah slid her hands under the baby and scooped him up. She shifted him so he laid in her arms and she worked to swaddle him in his blanket. Stanford smiled as his wife kissed the baby's cheek and the little guy was sleeping soundly. "There, much better, huh?" Hephzibah whispered.

"What's his name?" Stanford asked.

"Muhammad." Hephzibah and playfully rolled her eyes. "If I had a dollar for every little guy I've come across named… well, who cares? He's in perfect health n' all we gotta do is babysit him for a while." Hephzibah glanced up at the clock and commented. "Hm, Janice will probably take him back to his parents in a half-hour."

"Is Nursery B empty today?"

Hephzibah sighed and shook her head. "No, but that department is covered so I could give this little guy an extra hand. Poor wittle guy's gotta bent leg, bless him. Normally we wouldn't be concerned, but it seems to hurt him a bit, so we're gonna go ahead n' work on a plan to help him out." Hephzibah sat in a rocking chair and began to rock the baby in her hold. She looked up at Stanford and smiled at him, nodding her head to the chair by her side for him to sit and rock if he wanted. "So, are the gnomes still bothering Everest?"

Stanford shook his head as he chuckled and he sat down to chat. "More or less. It's just that one gnome, Jason, who is bothering him. I think the gnome is curious about Everest, but our boy doesn't trust Jason."

"He knows not to let Papa become a sacrifice for the Gnome Queen." Hephzibah giggled at the memory.

Stanford pinched the bridge of his nose and smiled with gritted teeth. "Please do not remind me."

Hephzibah giggled and changed the subject, meanwhile Stanford happily sat and held a very long, flowing conversation with her that was absolutely nothing but fluff, but it was much needed fluff.

* * *

_It started like buzzing in his ear, but it gradually became worse. Horrid voices whispering, hissing, screaming. Ford covered his ears with his polydactyl hands and squeezed his eyes shut to try to ignore everything else. He tried counting to ten and back, he tried to regulate his breathing, but nothing was making the horrible noises, the voices, go away._

_But then, what first joined harmoniously with the dreadful voices, rose from the chaos like a flower blooming in Spring. It was quiet, but then it gradually got louder. Or maybe the other voices got quieter. Or both. Ford relaxed to try to hear it better. A song? A tune? It reminded him of humming. It was familiar, like a lullaby for an old folk song whose words were long forgotten. Ford smiled, having no clue where the voice was coming from, but he liked it and his breathing was slowing down peacefully, so he allowed it to linger as he faded away._

* * *

Hephzibah had been woken up by her husband. Again. But she swore to God if he apologized one more time she was gonna give him a Pines-style left-hook. Luckily he was still asleep from the looks of it, but restless. Hephzibah, still lying down, turned to watch Stanford and he tossed and turned in his sleep, his face fixed with worry. Still sleepy and not quite fully awake, Hephzibah smiled and put a hand to his fluffy brown hair. Without even realizing it, she began to hum. She was like Stanley; they both had a habit of singing or humming or whistling to fill the silent air.

As Hephzibah soothed Stanford he relaxed and even smiled a little in his sleep. She closed her eyes and kept petting and humming until she fell asleep with her hand still in his hair.

The nightmares couldn't haunt them tonight.


	2. Start Trying

_**March 20th, 1983** _

A few weeks after they banished that three-sided demon back to the Nightmare Realm and destroyed the portal, Stanford was thinking hard about his future, more specifically his shared future with his family. He looked up from his book, sitting in bed, to find Hephzibah brushing her teeth for the night. She was right in front of him, her face hidden as she leaned forward over the sink to clean her teeth. Stanford can remember a time when the roles were reversed and he now had an idea of how nervous Hephzibah had been to talk to him. Well, he wasn't nervous due to the fact that he had a good idea of how she would react.

Stanford closed his book and put it in the drawer of his nightstand to finish another night. "Hephzibah?"

"Hm?" She hummed, her mouth too full to talk.

"I think we should try to have a baby."

Hephzibah spat in the sink. Stanford hoped it was comedic timing, and the look of pure happiness she gave him confirmed it. She looked at him with dazzling brown eyes and a slightly open mouth. It seemed to take a minute for her to process what her husband had said. "R-Really?" Hephzibah asked as a smile grew on her face. "Y-Ya really want to?"

Stanford returned the smile and nodded. "I promised I would think about it after the portal. It's after the portal, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Hephzibah trailed off there and resumed brushing her teeth, giving her husband a chance to deliver a short explanation.

"I understand if you thought I wouldn't keep my promise," Stanford confided in gloomily, but he was determined to not allow past experiences ruin their future. "But I have been thinking about this, and… and I think we're ready. It seems like the more I think about it, the more I want it to happen. At first, I just toyed with the idea, I made myself imagine having a baby, and… and I think I understand why you're so driven to have one. It's like any other project I've ever worked on or any other anomaly I've discovered. It won't leave me alone, and I know it won't until we go through with it."

Hephzibah exited the bathroom and turned off the light. "You're seriously comparin' startin' a family to uncoverin' the mysteries of Gravity Falls?" She chuckled as she leaned against the door frame.

Stanford chuckled back. "Well, why not? While we're certainly not finished with this adventure, I'm ready to start our next one together."

Hephzibah was surprised that her husband called parenthood an adventure, but she smiled as she full-heartedly agreed. Stanford was serious; he wanted children. He wanted a baby.

"So am I." Hephzibah said quietly and sat on her side of the bed, on top of the covers. "So… we're really gonna do this? We're gonna try?"

Stanford smiled and turned his whole body towards her. "We're trying to have a baby."

Hephzibah wanted to squeal, but the risk of Stanley hearing and thinking the gnomes were trying to steal offerings for their queen was too great, so she settled on hugging Stanford around the neck and kissing him. He kissed her back, that old feeling back in his chest. It felt like a prideful lion was roaring, just like when they both confirmed their feelings towards each other as teenagers, or when she accepted his proposal for marriage, or when they had kissed at their wedding.

When they separated from their kiss, Stanford asked, "So, when should we start trying?"

Hephzibah was thinking and looking up at the ceiling, her lips moving as if she was counting. Then she looked at her husband and said slowly, "Well, we could start tryin' now."

Stanford blinked excitedly. "Now?"

"Yeah, _now_." Hephzibah giggled.

Stanford grinned and pounced on the opportunity like a predator on its prey. With their arms wrapped around each other, Stanford started to advance, swiftly moving on top of Hephzibah so she lied on her back while they kissed. She turned her head away from their deep kiss to throw in a quick joke. "Wait, ya have a condom?"

Stanford couldn't help himself. He barked a quick laugh before kissing her neck and making her gasp and look up. A part of Stanford wanted to do this quickly, excited to do this, to start a family, to have a baby, but another part of him wanted to enjoy it like any other time, and it seemed Hephzibah wanted to, as well, so it was easy to pick a side of himself to agree with.

Stanford kissed down her neck, to the base, and kissed her shoulders tenderly. Hephzibah first pulled on his button-up flannel pajamas and then moved her fingers down to undo the buttons. Swiftly and without breaking their long, deep kiss, Hephzibah unbuttoned his shirt, pulled off the sleeves, and tossed the article of clothing to the side. Stanford sat up and broke their kiss so he could catch his breath and work to remove the black t-shirt that Hephzibah had stolen from her husband.

She grinned at him mischievously and challenged, "Alright, Fordsie, fertilize me!"

Once again, Stanford laughed uncontrollably and hugged her around the shoulders and kissed her neck before pulling the t-shirt off of her. After six years of marriage, they had both learned that sex doesn't always have to be steamy and romantic and serious like they show in movies. In fact, most of the time, while romantic and intimate, the happily married couple was laughing at comments and jokes. Sometimes romantic doesn't always mean serious. You can be romantic and have fun, too.

After the deed was done, Stanford was lying next to Hephzibah, cradling her in his strong arms as they both breathed heavily and lay naked comfortably under the sheets. He was on her left side, physically drained from the action but emotionally he was wide awake. He was excited.

"Hephzibah," Stanford breathed, still short of energy. "Do you realize we may have started our own family?"

"That's kinda how this whole unprotected sex thang works." Hephzibah huffed with laughter in her throat, lying in her husband's hold, on her back, but she turned to face him and she smiled, seeing that twinkle in his eye he always had when inspiration was at its highest point.

Stanford chuckled back, kissed her lips one more time, and quickly found himself knocked out and snoring.


	3. Dating Advice

_**April 28th, 1983** _

It was Hephzie's birthday. Ever since she had bought the twins the _Stan O' War II_ for their twenty-eighth anniversary of entering the world, Ford and Stan had been plotting on how to one-up the surprise. It had only been a few weeks since they banished Bill back to the Nightmare Realm, all the more reason to celebrate Hephzie's birthday by doing something special; in Ford's mind, she was lucky to even have made it to twenty-nine-years-old. And so it was no real surprise when Hephzie woke up alone in her bed, walked into the kitchen for coffee fully dressed, and Ford instantly pulled out a blindfold.

"Sweetheart, last time ya made me put on a blindfold ya took me to Dan's haunted cabin." Hephzie said as she tied it on.

"Don't worry, sis," Stan said as he drained his mug of joe. "The thing's ghost-free! You'll love it!"

"Can I at least have coffee?" Hephzie chuckled.

Ford brought a hot mug to her hands and Hephzie blindly sipped her coffee and chatted with the men with Everest's big head on her lap; they didn't want to risk Hephzie accidentally seeing her surprise out the kitchen window. The minute her coffee was gone, Ford grabbed her by the hand and gently led his wife out of her chair and down the hall. Hephzie could hear the twins' excited chuckling and boyish snickering and she knew that they were just as excited for their surprise as she had been when she gave them the _Stan O' War II_. They led Hephzie out the door and down the porch. She braced herself to be led into the car, but they stopped.

"Okay, okay, take off your blindfold!" Stan yelled cheerfully.

Hephzie pulled the knot loose and removed the white cloth from her face. After a few blinks to adjust to the early-morning sun, she awed at seeing an RV right in front of her. It was brand new, white with golden and red stripes at the bottom, and the top was already full of luggage and camping gear. Right in front of the RV was a huge light-purple ribbon.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Ford and Stan yelled.

"Wow!" Hephzie gasped with a huge grin. "An RV?! Are ya _serious_?!"

"As the plague." Ford said. "I talked with your boss and he gave you the next three days off work as a surprise."

"We're taking a family roadtrip up and down the Redwood Highway!" Stan added and pulled out a map from his back pocket and unfolded it. "There's the Beaver Museum, Log Land, Granny Sweetkin's Yarnball, Upside-Down Town, Corn Maze, and this new place called Mystery Mountain!"

"Oh! I've heard great things about Log Land!" Hephzie said optimistically. "Wait, what about Everest?"

"Fiddleford and his family agreed to babysit him for us while we're away." Ford said and then snickered at the memory of visiting his friend and talking with them over some sweet tea and pecan pie. "In fact, Tate was extremely ecstatic about the job."

"What do ya say, sis?" Stan asked. "Ready for the ultimate family roadtrip?!"

"Of course!" Hephzie ran to the twins and hugged them both tightly. "Thank ya both so much. This is a great gift."

"After everything you've done for us," Ford said as he squeezed her back. "You deserve it."

Stan let go of them both and hurried into the RV with Everest by his side. "Let's move!"

Ford and Hephzie excitedly followed him into it. The doctor with dreadlocks awed at the interior. There was a table and seats and another separate section of seats, both of which turned into beds. Yellow-plaid curtains decorated the small windows and the size of the vehicle was large enough that they could add the McGucket family and everyone would still be comfortable.

After dropping off the Saint Bernard dog with their trusted friends, Stan happily drove and let Ford and Hephzie sit in the back and talk pleasantly as they admired the scenery Oregon gave. It was a little odd leaving Gravity Falls, but the Pines were used to things being odd or strange. About an hour after leaving town, they pulled up to the Beaver Museum. Hephzie climbed out of the RV with Stan to take a look at the Museum. It looked like a cross between a National Park's homebase and a beaver's dam, with wooden sticks for the ceiling and straight walls and a pointed ceiling. Ford followed them with an informational pamphlet in his hands.

"Oo! It says here that this Beaver Museum houses the corpse of the largest beaver ever discovered by man and is the number one reason why Canadians have visited America." Ford said.

Stan made a coughing noise into his fist that sounded a lot like "crackpot" and Hephzie laughed and led the way inside. The museum was decorated with sticks and logs for benches. The walls were covered in information about the beaver and the history of the Fur Trade, along with dioramas of hunting for beavers and beavers building a dam. In the back was a playset for children, a dam with tunnels that led to a coloring-area for kids to crawl into. While Ford happily read the history-lesson on the wall, Stan and Hephzie wandered to the back.

"I'll bet you ten bucks you can't fit in that thing." Stan dared with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'll take that bet." Hephzie said as she popped her knuckles and she crawled into one of the small tunnels and out of sight.

Stan smiled amusingly until a lady walked by him. She looked about Stan's age, had short blonde hair, and wore a pretty red-plaid dress that made her look like a walking picnic blanket, but she looked nice in it. Stan took in a deep breath and decided that, if all else fails, he would never see this girl again. He stepped up to her and said, "Uh, hi. I'm Stan."

The lady looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, hi. I'm Amy."

"Nice to meet you. Crazy place, huh?"

Amy chuckled. "Yeah, you can say that again."

Stan, encouraged, went on and laughed, "Yeah, who thought beavers were cool enough to have a whole museum about them? Some loser, am I right?"

Amy scowled. "My father owns the museum."

Stan felt himself turn a few shades paler and he put his hands up in surrender. "Oh, uh, I mean… if you think about it… I mean…"

Amy huffed, turned with her nose up in the air, and walked away. Stan sighed to himself. How many women had he gone out with in Gravity Falls, and how many of those dates actually worked out? In retrospect, most of the ladies in Gravity Falls were nut-jobs with too much make-up, but still. Stan had been slapped more times than he can remember and he was starting to lose hope on the whole dating-thing. Maybe some people, like Ford and Hephzie, were lucky to fall in love and have someone to grow old with, but maybe some people, like Stan, weren't so lucky.

Hephzie walked up to him with her hair frazzled and colorful markers drawn all over her face. "Geez, those kids are insane. Whoa, hey, what's wrong?" She asked when she saw the defeated look on Stan's face.

The ex-conman blinked and picked himself back up. "Uh, nothing. Yeesh, what happened to you?"

"Long story." Hephzie said as she wiped the color from her face. "Forget that. What happened to _ya_?"

Stan, knowing that Hephzie wasn't going to give up until she got an answer, pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Look, we've been living in Gravity Falls for what? Almost seven years? And every girl I've dated there is either obsessed with cats or a monster."

"I thought Gwen was okay."

"She bit me and turned me into a vampire for ten minutes!"

"Meh, we all have our flaws." Hephzie teased with a shrug.

"The point is," Stan snapped. "I thought maybe trying to talk to girls outside of our stupid hick town might work, but it looks like I'm just a failure when it comes to women all around the world."

"Aw, c'mon, Stan," Hephzie said and put a hand on his shoulder. "That's not true. Ya just need some help from a certain female who knows a thing or two about love. Look, tell ya what, next time ya see a girl ya like just go up to her, compliment her, and then walk away."

"Then walk away?"

"Then walk away."

"This isn't some trick to getting me slapped again, is it?" Stan sneered.

"No this is good advice a married woman is givin' ya." Hephzie said and even raised her left hand and wiggled her fingers, showing her wedding ring and her engagement ring proudly. "Take it or don't, but clearly I know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

Stan sighed, admitting defeat, and he smiled. "Thanks, sis. I'll try it on the first gal I see at our next stop."

"Great! By the way, ya owe me ten bucks."

After Stan forked over the cash they found Ford reading an informational wall full of fun facts about the beaver; Stan stood by a door with a sign that read "Pet Beavers Here" and they dragged Ford through the door to pet the beavers, who were building a dam on an open creek. One scampered over to Ford's outstretched hand, but ended up chewing on his sideburn like an annoying Leprecorn. Stan had to punch the beaver off of his twin, causing security to chase the Pines out of the museum.

Ford rubbed the side of his face to ease the ache and Hephzie rubbed his back sympathetically, laughing slightly, as Stan drove them to their next stop. The giant ball of yarn was somewhat interesting and made Ford rethink his obscure idea of knitting his own turtlenecks, but Stan was way too interested in the giant needles so they drove off for lunch at a Chinese buffet and then were off to an attraction Ford was really looking forward to: Upside-Down Town.

The Pines family baffled as they pulled up to a house that was upside down. Wooden planks kept the house from toppling over, but what made it interesting was how you entered the tourist trap. Rather than enter through the attic's window and walk on the ceiling, every visitor had to put on special velcro shoes and enter via carpet-hamster-wheel. Hephzie and Ford led the way, excited, and they grinned at the weird upside-down world before them.

Hephzie looked at her husband and found his fluffy brown hair even more fluffy with it falling thanks to gravity. She giggled and said, "As if your hair couldn't get any fluffier." And she ruffled it teasingly.

Ford playfully shoved her off and chuckled, "My hair is not _fluffy_."

"Yes it is, you're adorable!"

"I am not _adorable_!" Ford tried to say firmly, but it was hard with the running joke he and Hephzie had had for years and the fact that all the blood was pooling to his head. "I am a force to be reckoned with!"

"A _cute_ force to be reckoned with, sure." Hephzie sneered, ran a hand through his hair, kissed his cheek for being a good sport, and checked their reflection in the mirror. "Wow, look at my hair!" She pointed out; her hair was even wilder than Ford's, her hair longer and still in a ponytail.

"This would make a great picture!" Ford pulled out his camera from his trenchcoat, which was bundling awkwardly by his arms, and they both grinned at the mirror as he snapped a picture of the mirror's reflection.

"Hey, do ya think I should cut my hair?" Hephzie asked as she untied her ponytail for another picture.

"Hm, I think you would look beautiful in any hairstyle you chose, but if you were to get something different, what would you do?" Ford asked as he snapped another picture.

Hephzie shrugged. "I dunno. I could cut it n' let it stick out in curls."

"Now _that_ would be fluffy." Ford teased as he ruffled her dreadlocks.

As the married couple aimlessly talked about hairstyles while exploring the house, Stan was looking at an upside-down fish tank when a pretty girl walked by him. She was his age with her brown hair in a perm and wore a puffy blue-and-pink top and jeans. She smiled at her teenage-cousin as he told a joke that was somewhat funny and rolled her eyes and walked off to admire the house. Stan took in a deep breath and decided to give Hephzie's advice a try.

"Right, compliment her, then walk away." Stan muttered and then said, "Uh, hey. I'm Stan."

"Hi," The woman said with a smile, already much nicer than Amy. "I'm Sophia. Really weird place, huh?"

"Huh, yeah," Stan said with a matching smile. Compliment, right. "I like your shirt. It looks nice."

Sophia blushed and put a hand on her opposite sleeve. "Thanks. Your jacket looks cool."

Stan chuckled and puffed his chest out a little, his brown hoodie unzipped and showcasing a tone chest covered by a white t-shirt. "Hey, thanks. So, what brings you out here?"

"Family roadtrip with my aunt, uncle, and cousin." Sophia said and jabbed her thumb behind her where her family was at the gift shop. "What about you?"

"Same, a family roadtrip for my sister-in-law's birthday." Stan pointed to Hephzie and Ford, now laughing as they were trying to read backwards God only knows why. "I dunno what made her do it, but my best friend married my brother."

"Aw, they're so cute together." Sophia admired.

Stan gave her a cunning smile and said, "Nah, you're cuter."

Sophia blushed a deep crimson and then smiled. "Well, you're not so bad yourself, Stan. - No, Jeremy! Don't lick that! - Here, call me and maybe I'll pick up." And she gently grabbed Stan's hand and wrote down a phone number before leaving to try to stop her cousin from getting into trouble.

Stan stared at the number and then punched the air. A girl gave her a phone number! All seven digits, too! Maybe Hephzie's advice wasn't so stupid. He then noticed Ford holding his head and even taking off his glasses and Hephzie helped walk him around the house so he was up-right and Stan knew that Ford had gotten a headache and that it was time to go.

While Hephzie happily had Ford lay his head on her lap as she gave him an icepack (a bit extra, but in all honesty it was just an excuse to get Ford to lie down on her), Stan grinned proudly at the phone number on his palm. He went over the conversation in his head. He was way too nervous. If he wanted to get better at flirting with girls, he needed to practice more. He decided to see if Hephzie's advice was more than just luck and actually worked more than once.

Ford swatted Hephzie away playfully when they pulled up to Log Land and the married couple tried to coax Stan into getting on one of the big log rides, but the first drop was just way too high for him so he focused his attention on a pretty Asian girl with long black hair and made his family go on without him. Ford and Hephzie were too busy squeezing their clothes dry to notice a phone number on Stan's opposite wrist of Sophia's. They had enough time in the day for the corn maze and agreed to get dinner there, rumors being they served great pumpkin pie. Stan wanted to cheat and just walk through the corn and try to scare people, but he was distracted by another girl and chatted with her at the heart of the maze. Ford, at first, wanted to try to be practical, but then he was attacked by his wife, who hopped on his back and struggled to get on his shoulders without his assistance. Ford, once he understood, hoisted Hephzie on his shoulders and she was tall enough to see the way through the maze, but she gave vague answers as where to go and spoke in riddles to frustrate Ford, so in retaliation he broke into a run and made Hephzie worried that she would fall and she laughed nervously.

After fried chicken and pumpkin pie at the corn maze, Stan drove them to an RV park called Septic Ridge and they scrambled for the free hot tub. In her black one-piece bathing suit, Hephzie sighed with relief as she sunk in the water until the hot water was up to her nose. Ford sat next to her in his trunks and hissed and sighed.

"We really need to consider renovating the master bathroom and putting in a hot tub." He yawned as he stretched and wrapped around Hephzie's shoulders when she rose up from the water.

"Seriously, guys," Hephzie said as Stan got in next to them, on Ford's other side. "This is, by far, the best birthday. We were due for a mini-vacation."

"I agree. Maybe we should consider visiting Portland and sightseeing sometime during the summer." Ford offered and then his eye caught something on his brother's skin. While Stan popped open a can of soda, the scientist noticed the phone-numbers on his brother's wrist, palm, and arm. "Stanley, where on Earth did you get all those phone-numbers?" He asked amusingly.

Stan grinned smugly. "Let's just say that if Hephzie ever gets fired from the hospital, she should be a marriage counselor."

"You took her dating advice?" Ford asked with a chuckle. "I find it hard to believe you swallowed your pride enough to ask for it."

"I didn't!" Stan growled. "It was offered, but seriously, sis, nice job! All that compliment-and-walk-away junk actually worked! Most of the time I don't even get to the walk-away part before they're going after me!"

Hephzie had raised her eyebrow the minute she saw the multiple phone-numbers. "Yeah, that's the idea; if you don't pressure them they'll usually ask ya out, but did ya really use the tactic on more than one girl?"

"Yeah, why?" Stan asked with a cool facial expression. "What's the problem?"

"Yeah, ya just dug your own grave." Hephzie said coldly with an eyeroll and a small smile on her lips. "If these gurls find out ya've been flirtin' with all of 'em at once, you're done for."

"Aw, come on," Stan said with a shrug. "I haven't even asked any of them out on a date yet. I'm just trying to meet new girls, that's why anybody talks to anybody, to get to know 'em better. Anyways, it's not like I'm ever gonna see these gals again."

"What makes you say that?" Ford asked curiously.

"We're on a roadtrip."

"Fine, but remember, what goes 'round comes 'round." Hephzie said.

* * *

After breakfast at a truck-stop not too different from Ford's favorite breakfast joint back in Gravity Falls, they headed for their last destination, anticipating that this one would take most of the day. Stan drove once more, with Ford sitting passenger and Hephzie tying her dreadlocks up into a ponytail.

"Oh, this may actually be worth investigating, Stanley." The eldest twin said, reading a pamphlet. "This attraction is said to host a handful of anomalies. Perhaps this is a small cluster outside of Gravity Falls."

"I thought Gravity Falls was the only hot-spot." Stan said.

"No, no, there are many more anomalies out there. Gravity Falls is simply the largest cluster in the world. There are much smaller clusters or sightings all over the planet. Ireland has a cluster and there's a tiny one in the midst of this upcoming mountain."

"What'd they got?" Hephzie asked. "Centruars? Mutant Mountain lions?"

"No. Half-human, half-spider creatures."

"WHAT?!" Hephzie yelped and fell off the couch. Stan risked wrecking the RV and looked back at her with Ford, snickering. Stan might have a fear of heights, but Hephzie was terrified of spiders. "Are ya serious? _Spiders?!_ "

"Realx, sis." Stan said, eyes on the road once more. "We won't let any of those freaks catch you and spin you in their webs and suck out your…"

"Stanley!" Ford scolded; Hephzie was paling.

The RV pulled up to Mystery Mountain and parked. Ford held Hephzie's hand as they walked out and Stan glanced around the mist. It was a pretty cool attraction that probably made a good amount of money from gullible tourists, conspiracy theorists, spider-lovers, and hikers and explorers.

In the ticket-booth beneath a giant Paul Bunyan statue was a young lady with lush blonde hair, sunglasses on her forehead, tanned skin, and pink lips. She was actually very pretty and she had a nice smile. Stan thought about Hephzie's warning, but what's the worst that could happen if he tried to con himself some free tickets and practiced his rusty flirting skills. However, this girl was different; she felt more confident than the other girls Stan had met on this roadtrip, so he decided to add Hephzie's advice to his old ways.

He rummaged through his pockets as he approached the booth. "Uh, oh. I lost my number. Maybe I can borrow yours?" And he leaned against the booth.

The lady laughed and touched his shoulder gracefully. "Oh, you are a riot! What brings ya here, we don't normally get men this handsome 'round these parts."

Stan had noticed one thing from the other girls, especially Sophia from the upside-down house; women like a family man. "Oh," He paused to glance at her nametag swiftly, "Just on a family roadtrip. Gotta make time for what's important, so I figured I'd clear some minutes for you if you'll take 'em, Darlene."

She laughed again. "Aw, how sweet. Well I guess I can make time for a handsome man like yourself. I'm going on a break, wanna take the skytram up to Widow's Peak?"

"With such a beautiful woman like you? Sure." Stan said, offered his arm, and walked with her to the entrance of the forest.

Ford and Hephzie were looking for him, about to ask if he wanted to see the Mummy Museum with them, when they saw him walking with a woman and they both snickered playfully. "He's going to end up in trouble one of these days if he isn't more careful." Ford said. "Nothing in this universe is scarier than an angry woman."

"Meh, he'll be fine." Hephzie said with a shrug. "M'just glad he's…" She screamed madly and jumped into Ford's arms, his knees buckling under the sudden gain in weight. "FORDFORDFORDFORD!"

"What, what is it?!" He asked and looked around, his wife holding him tightly and nearly choking him. Ford followed Hephzie's fearful eyes and saw a little black spider crawling by their feet. "Hephzibah, darling, it's alright."

"Killitkillitkillitkillit!"

"My dear, you do know that we need spiders for a healthy ecosystem, don't you?" Ford soothed. "They kill flies and other annoying insects and they're actually quite friendly."

But Hephzie didn't move. Ford sighed and re-situated his wife so she rode on him piggy-back and he walked them towards the museum. Hephzie kissed his cheek in thanks and nuzzled her face in his neck. Ford smiled bashfully at that and continued on their merry way.

Meanwhile, Stan and Darlene were going deeper and deeper into the woods. The mist was rolling in closer and the woods were looking more and more like a swamp than a forest; it was nothing like the warm and inviting woods in Gravity Falls, but Stan was unshaken, unlike Darlene. She held his arm a little tighter, giving him confidence.

"Oh, are you sure you wanna go this deep into the forest?" Darlene asked timidly as they sat on a bench by a wooden statue of a spider. "It's so scary."

"Don't worry, sweetie." Stan said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She leaned on his chest. "There's no such thing as scary spider-creatures or whatever, and even if there is, I've faced dozens of monsters before. I can keep you safe." His confidence was, for a lack of a better term, through the roof.

"Wow, you're so brave." Darlene admired.

"Heh, yeah I'm a real catch." He said sarcastically.

"Yes," Darlene blinked and suddenly her eyes were black, like her sunglasses, and her voice was some unholy sound. "A catch of the day."

"Uh, pollen in your eyes and throat or something?" Stan guessed hopefully before yelling for help.

Around that time, Hephzie and Ford were roaming around the Mummy Museum, confused and intrigued by the entire exhibit.

"I'm a little confused by the phrase 'new mummies daily'." Ford said as he pulled out his third journal and began taking notes. "How would that even work?"

"Maybe it's just a white lie to make tourists interested." Hephzie speculated. "These mummies are probably fake."

Ford peered closer at one and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hephzibah, I'm not so sure about that. These features… they're way too similar to the decaying corpses our professor back at Backupsmore brought in for that Biology lesson."

"I remember that one." Hephzie chuckled over the memory. "He was really cool." She then grew more serious. "What are ya tryin' to say? Ya think these mummies are… real? Like, real dead humans?"

"It's… possible." Ford said slowly and felt the white substance wrapped around the bodies, ignoring the "no touching" sign. "This… this isn't cloth. Feel."

Hephzie did as she was told. She was surprised to find it too soft and silky to be bandages or scraps of cloth. "Did they use… silk just to wrap up mummies?"

Ford pulled a piece of the substance off the mummy and rubbed it between his fingers. "This isn't any ordinary silk." He said darkly. "That is spider's webbing."

Hephzie jumped back away from the mummy and started to rapidly breathe. Ford looked at her, concerned she might work herself into an anxiety attack, and she stuttered, "Sp-Sp-Sp-Spider?! _Spider?!_ "

"Hephzibah, darling, calm down." Ford went to her and squeezed her hand. "Let's just find Stan and go. We can come back another day to further investigate when you're safe at home."

"The hell ya will!" Hephzie snapped as they started to leave the museum. "The hell you're comin' back here to be eaten by some…"

She stopped when a certain scratching sound came from Ford's trenchcoat. He pulled out a very old hand radio saved for emergencies when exploring Gravity Falls. "Ford! Earth to Ford! You there?"

"Yes, Stanley, I'm here." Ford answered. "Where are you?"

"I'm up the mountain at Widow's Peak."

"Well, hurry up and come down."

"Love to, believe me Sixer, but I'm kinda tied up right now. And by that I mean tied up in webbing and about to join the Mummy Museum."

"WHAT?!" Ford and Hephzie both yelled.

"Turns out Darlene's one of those spider-people you were talking about. But apart from that the date's going okay."

"Stanley!" Hephzie scolded.

"Okay, okay, hold on!" Ford said into the radio. "We're on our way!"

"Well hurry!" Stan said, his radio by his shoulder as he was hung up from the cave in webbing, wiggling to try to fight his way out. "This stuff's…" But he was interrupted when a web snatched his radio and was suddenly in Darlene's hand.

"Ah, ah. Tryin' to escape?" And she threw the device to the rocky floor, shattering it. Darlene proudly tapped the cave's floor with her six legs, her bottom-half spider and her top-half still human.

"You little liar!" Stan spat. "I admire how cunning you are, but I'm also mad at you for it! I'm now eighty-percent certain you don't really love me at all!"

"HA!" Darlene pointed at him wickedly and messed with her hair. "Men will fall for anything! 'Your so funny.' 'Great story.' 'Wow, you're so handsome.'" She repeated in a meeker, mocking tone, and then cackled evilly.

"Oh, yeah, well just you wait, princess!" Stan growled. "When I get outta here, I'll…"

"Oh, you'll what?" Darlene asked, amused by his performance. "Compliment me? Throw around a cheesy line or two? Tell me, Stannie Wannie, before I transformed did you really think you had a shot with me?!" She laughed, up close at his face, stretching his mouth with a spider-leg and invading his personal bubble. "Some lazy retired-tramp bumming it out on his family's couch?! HA! You wish, toots! But don't you worry, I'll put your useless body to good use. For dinner. Now, lemme slip into something more horrifying." And Darlene ignored Stan's heartbroken facial expression to stretch her mouth inside-out and transform into a giant spider. Stan yelled in shock, forgetting his painful rejection for a moment. "Now, do I want a stiffer drink for a chewy, fat bum or something a little thinner to even things out? Be right back." And the giant spider scurried off as she cackled.

Stan's scowl dissipated as self-doubt clouded his thought and he sagged in the webbing.

Ford and Hephzie were climbing up the mountain as fast as they could, and just in time they made it to the cave and found Stan. "Stanley!" Ford called and pulled out his switchblade.

"You guys! Hurry before the venom sets in!"

Ford cut Stan loose and he fell on his face, but then Ford sliced the trap in half and Hephzie helped him to his feet, her whole body trembling with fear. "Let's get outta here!"

The trio ran for their lives as hissing followed them. "NO! Where are you?!"

"Quick, the skytram!" Ford shouted. "I have a plan!"

They hurried inside and started on their way. Stan laughed victoriously. "HA! Yes! Ride like the wind skytram!"

Unfortunately, the skytram felt like it was going so slow that it wasn't even moving. _"Welcome to Trambience, the world's slowest treetop tram ride. Enjoy the sites at 0.1 miles per hour."_

Hephzie screeched and grabbed her dreadlocks, shaking and breathing heavily. Stan growled like an angry bulldog. "GAH! Can't this thing go any faster?!" He asked as he searched for some sort of power button or switch of something, but all he saw was the dropswitch.

_"No it can't. This is Trambience."_

"Welp, that's it!" Hephzie yelped and threw her hands in the air, her breathing increasing as she began to really panic. "We're dead, you're dead, I'm dead, EVERYONE'S DEAD!"

"Both of you, calm down." Ford urged. "Listen to me, there…"

They all screamed as the tram was rocked when the spider landed on them. She began to crawl around, encasing them in webbing. Stan and Hephzie screamed as they hugged each other. "If we survive this, I'm never complaining about Gwen again!" The bachelor declared.

"Why did I have to give good datin' tips?!" Hephzie yelled.

"Listen!" Ford yelled to get their attention. "This skytram has an emergency dropswitch, below us is Oregon's largest Paul Bunyan statue, and Old Reliable goes off in…" The six-fingered scientist checked his watch. "...five…" He put his free hand on the switch. "...four…"

"Stanford, are you crazy?!" Stan screamed.

"...three…"

"I swear to God if ya pull that lever…" Hephzie began to threaten.

"...two…"

"If we die, I'm gonna kill you!" Stan managed to finish his threat.

"...now!" And Ford pulled the lever.

The spider, Stan, and Hephzie screamed for their lives (Hephzie half-screamed, half-sobbed) while Ford was calm inside the tram. The whole thing, along with the entangled spider, fell on the geyser as it erupted, and then the whole thing bounced through a huge tree, rolled on a hiking train, and pushed the ticket-booth under Paul Buynun's boot out as Darlene fell under it. She was too slow, and while the tram landed on top of a car and made the alarm go off, the spider was trapped under the giant boot.

"No, my only weakness: a giant boot!" Darlene groaned from under her trap. "A giant newspaper or a giant cup would've also been pretty bad."

Ford pushed the door free and stumbled out, a little dizzy, while Stan sat to collect himself and Hephzie panted on her hands and knees. "Oh, God… oh God…"

Ford helped her up to her feet. "I'm sorry, Hephzibah, but it was the only way…"

"And it was brilliant!" Stan cheered and stood up. "How'd you know that would work, Brainiac?"

"Informational travel pamphlets." And Ford pulled some out of his trenchcoat. "Who's the nerd now?"

"Still you."

"Stannie?" A voice cooed and the three turned back to Darlene, who had put on her human-persona and her cutest eyes possible. "I'm sorry, I dunno what came over me." She said, making herself look as pitiful and as small as possible. "You'll let me out, right?"

"WHAT?!" Stan yelled and took a step closer to confront her. "After all that?! Seriously, do I look like an amnesiac?!"

Darlene laughed while Ford held Hephzie close; she was trembling in his arms, and not from fear. "You're so funny! Have you ever considered becoming a comedian?"

Stan lit up. "You know, I actually have. Comedy's too subtle these days. My style involves more oversized props. Here, lemme…"

"Stanley, NO!" Ford dragged Stan's wrist and kept him back just in time for Darlene to miss Stan and miss dinner.

"Oh. Right."

"You win this round, Stan, but mark my words." Darlene hissed. "As long as there's useless men like you out there with their dumb one-liners who are desperate enough to go out with literally anybody, I'll never run outta prey!"

"WHAT?!" Hephzie screamed and stepped out of her husband's hold. "Ya little to me, ya wench! My brother's way too good for any plastic, low-life, trashy, fakes like ya! He's super smart n' funny n' sweet n' really good lookin'! He's TWICE the man than ya deserve!"

"Yeah!" Ford said and raised a fist to the air. "What she said!"

"Uh, thanks, but…" Stan was interrupted as the spider spat some acid and almost seared his foot off. "AH! Gettin the car, gettin in the car!"

They all ran for the RV and Stan booked it as fast as he could, leaving Darlene to shake a spider-leg at them.

They didn't have much energy to do anything but sit and relax on their way back home. Ford shed his trenchcoat and gave it to Hephzie to use as a blanket when she fell asleep on the couch. After petting her hair and leaving her alone, he wandered to the passenger's seat to try to talk to his brother. Stan was driving robotically with hazy eyes on the road.

Ford sat and buckled. "Do you want to talk about it? I know I'm not a dating expert or know anything about women…"

"You're married." Stan pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Ford chuckled and shook his head. "You and I both know that that is only out of pure luck. If it wasn't for Hephzibah being so outgoing and blunt, I don't think we would have ever dated to begin with."

Stan smiled a little. "You're probably right." He sighed tiredly and ran a hand through his brown hair. "I dunno… I guess I was just hoping that I wouldn't be a failure with women like I am with everything else."

"Hey, you're not a failure." Ford said firmly as he put a hand on his shoulder.

"I might lie, but the facts don't, Sixer." Stan said glumly. "I've already been divorced once and..."

"Wait, wait. You've been divorced?"

"Crazy things happen in Vegas."

"Stanley, listen to me." Ford requested firmly. "I don't care what you or anyone else says, you are not a failure. You saved my life countless times while exploring Gravity Falls and you are incredibly brave and loyal. You're my best friend in the whole world, and if we're being honest, the only reason why you haven't found the right one yet is because no woman yet has been good enough for the swav Stan Pines."

Stan snorted to try to hide the stupid smile on his face. "Thanks."

"And, you know what, if you really want to find a nice girl to date, you should go with Hephzibah next time she goes to the salon." Ford suggested. "Every time I go with her all the women there do is complain about their exes or how they're waiting to have somewhere nice to go now that they look nice or something like that."

"Okay, okay."

"Oh! Now that I think about it, Hephzibah knows a lot of nurses at the hospital. I'm sure she would be happy to set up a date for you."

"Okay, calm down…"

"Or what about my old colleague…"

Stan cut him off. "Thanks, Ford, but this is getting weird."

The Gravity Falls sign was coming up. Ford smiled as the sun was setting behind them, creating the golden hour. "Yes, but when have we ever strayed from weirdness?"


	4. Old Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I'm not even kidding, I've had up to chapter 15 written, but then I decided to make a drastic change and so I had to re-do chapter 4 and 5 (and a little bit of 6), and I kinda lost the strength to finish it until literally two days ago. Now we're back on track! I hope to finish this at least, much like I did with Crash and Burn, and I still need to wrap up Life, but hey; endings are hard. Thanks for reading and sticking around, and I hope you enjoy this journey!
> 
> Wonder if anyone can guess what the drastic change would be..........

_**May 10th, 1983** _

It was about twenty minutes after five o’clock. Hephzie was humming to herself as she parked her motorcycle next to the red Diablo and shut the engine off. She freed her deadlocks from her helmet, still tied up in her high-ponytail by a red scrunchie, and walked up the stairs to the porch. When Hephzie opened the door, she was greeted by a Saint Bernard, who was ninety-one pounds and not quite fully grown, but the seven-month-old puppy was no longer a little ball of fluff. He ran, slid on the wooden floor a little, but he was a master at using the slippery floor to get to his Mama faster, and soon his front paws were up on her stomach and his little cotton-ball of fur for a tail was wagging rapidly.

“Hey, Everest!” Hephzie dropped her helmet to massage his saggy muzzle with both hands and she lowered herself enough so Everest could lick her face. “Did ya have a good day?”

“Hephzibah!” Ford came up to her with a smile on his face and Hephzie shooed the dog off of her so she could stand straight. Everest happily sat by their feet with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “How was work?”

Hephzie kissed Ford in greeting and said, “It was great! It was steady for the most part, delivered three babies today. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was fine.” Ford with a smile and a shrug. “Still haven’t found the Moth Man. I think he’s avoiding me.”

“How much does he owe ya?” Hephzie asked as she hung up her leather-jacket by the door to reveal her usual red blouse.

“Fifty dollars.”

“How did he manage to owe ya fifty bucks?”

“He’s terrible at poker.”

Hephzie rolled her eyes and headed for her room to relax a little before dinner. Stan was making spaghetti in the kitchen, but was too busy dancing to Disco Girl on the radio to say hi to Hephzie as she passed or even notice that she was home. The doctor with dreadlocks sighed with relief when she walked into her shared bedroom, but raised a brow at the little box on her pillow; Ford hadn’t wrapped it, but he had stuck a little blue bow on it to make it clear that it was a gift.

Hephzie sighed to herself and crossed her arms over her chest. When she glanced at the door, Ford was there with an excited grin on his face. “Ford…”

He closed the door for privacy and whispered, “Oh, go on! Just take it, please!”

Hephzie chuckled and picked the box off of her pillow; She could tell that Ford had been looking forward to this all day. “Okay.”

Ford punched the air, he was so excited. “Yes!” And he sat at the foot of the queen-sized bed while Hephzie went into their bathroom. The young scientist patted his knees to the rhythm of Disco Girl (that song now stuck in his head) and he used the sounds of flushing and the faucet running to keep track of the progress that was being made. When the door opened, he leaned forward a little, a hand on each knee, and he waited for his wife’s results. “Well?”

Hephzie shook her head. “Nope.”

Ford’s smile dropped, but he quickly picked it back up as best as he could, making a sad smile with genuine eyes. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep trying.”

“I’m not worried.” Hephzie said and stepped towards her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her by the waist, Ford’s head up to her chest. “We just gotta be patient.”

“I know, I know,” Ford sighed. “I just… how many teenagers have you had for patients? How many newborns had you cared for or delivered that were… surprises?”

“‘Bout as many couples I’ve had that had to try for years before they got a positive, or never got one at all?” Hephzie said calmly. “Life’s unfair like that.”

Ford sighed with a nod of agreement, and hugged her so his head rested on her chest.

Hephzie rubbed his back and shoulders as she hugged him. “Ya know what,” She said slowly as an idea came to mind. “Let’s have a movie night. We haven’t had one in forever.”

Ford looked up at her with eyes that sparkled like stars and gently rested his cleft chin on her stomach. “That sounds like a great idea. What film did you have in mind?”

“What about that alien movie ya n’ Stan wanted to see?”

“Sure. We’re out of popcorn, though. Why don’t I pick some up and go rent the movie after dinner while you and Stanley do the chores.”

“What? Makin’ me do chores after a long day of work!” Hephzie gasped in pretend-offense.

Ford raised a brow and gave her a playful smirk. “I’m sorry. Who washed the Stanmobile and filled it with gas?”

“You did?”

“And who did the laundry?”

“Hopefully Stan. You always manage to leave a red sock in the whites.”

Ford snickered. “And who gave Everest a bath?”

“Okay, I know Stan did that; ya hate givin’ Everest a bath.”

“That’s true, that’s true, and I’ll admit that Stanley hasn’t bathed him yet, but I don’t suppose it’s too much to ask for you to do the dishes while he does that and I venture out into a hostile world for food.”

Hephzie laughed, gave Ford a kiss, and said, “Fine, but only for a kiss.”

“Anything for that.” He felt confident and sure with the woman he loved in her arms. He playfully swung her down on the bed, twisted in his seat, and letting out a playful roar of a “gotcha!” as she laughed and he kissed her. Hephzie kissed him back deeply, an arm over his shoulder and a hand on his cheek, and then they forced themselves to separate to share their plan with Stan.

An hour or so later and Ford went on a little errand trip. First he went to the grocery store and got some snacks. He grabbed some popcorn, a bag of jelly-beans, some toffee-peanuts, a box of oreos, and a six-pack of Pitt soda. Ford then drove the Diablo through town for the video-rental to get the movie, the window rolled down and he comfortably rested an elbow on the edge.

Ford had just reached the Stanmobile with the VCR tape in his hand when he had a feeling that someone was watching him. A shiver went down his back like a spider. Ford turned around and saw a man approaching him, his head low and his eyes hidden by a shadow, but this guy had arms covered in tattoos and a black bandanna around his forehead, his long black hair as oily as his voice. “Stan Pines?”

Ford took a step back. “Yes and no.” He was startled to find that he had been bumped into another guy, a bigger, beefier man with a goatee and brass knuckles covered in spikes, unlike Stanley’s who had golden, smooth ones just for bruises and roughed-up skin. “Who’s asking?” Ford asked coldly. His mind quickly went to those four years his brother was alone and it didn’t take twelve PhDs to know these guys were up to no good.

“That’s him.” The second guy said to the first guy, making a small nod, and then Ford was hit in the back of the head and everything went dark.

* * *

“How long does it take a guy to rent a movie and pick up some snacks?” Stan asked.

Hephzie glanced up from the TV and at the owl clock as she petted Everest, who was drooling a little on her leg. It had been almost two hours since Ford had left. Her nerves spiked a little at that. It’s possible it would take an hour - maybe Ford thought of some other groceries he should pick up while at the store, maybe he picked up some drinks at the bar, maybe the video rental didn’t have the alien movie so he had to pick a new one he thought everyone would enjoy - but definitely not two hours, unless the car broke down or he ran into Fiddleford and they were talking and allowed time to get away from them or Ford was distracted by a new anomaly.

“Should we go look for him?” Hephzie asked. “If only to yell at him?” She added to lighten the mood.

Stan snorted. “Nah, I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s give him a few more minutes, and then when he gets back we’ll yell at him.”

Hephzie chuckled and they resumed watching Cash Wheel. It was a rerun of yesterday’s episode, the new episode having already aired, so they half paid attention as they chatted and Hephzie gave their dog some love. The clock ticked by and with every minute Ford wasn’t back his family got a little more nervous. Ford may claim to be the responsible one, but if he was driving and saw an anomaly he would definitely leave the Stanmobile behind and run into the woods to further investigate. After the second episode of Cash Wheel, they decided to figure out what was taking Ford so long and they left Everest alone at home to find their missing family member.

On Hephzie’s motorcycle, with Stan hanging on from behind, they drove to the grocery store and found no red Diablo (the car was relatively easy to find), and then drove to the video rental. No Stanmobile in sight. Curious and annoyed, Hephzie drove them another way home, making a big circle, in case Ford was back home, now wondering where everyone went. The shack was just the same as they had left it. After exchanging worried looks, Hephzie drove her and Stan around town, on the look-out for Ford.

They drove through downtown. They drove uptown towards the interstate, where Gravity Malls and nicer restaurants stood. They even checked Three Digits, but no red Diablo. “I swear, if he went running off into the woods…” Stan growled.

Hephzie drove them along the backroads in the woods, quietly cruising along the trees and sounds of the night. They both had a sick feeling in their stomachs like something was very wrong. Where was Ford?

* * *

His head hurt. That was what probably woke him. The sudden jolt upward, resulting in hitting the weak spot of his skull, slapped him awake and he groaned in anger and pain. Ford blinked to try to see clearly, resetting his vision, but all he saw was darkness. As his eyes adjusted, his senses started to piece together details that would tell him what happened.

His glasses were lopsided. He couldn’t adjust them, because his hands were tied behind his back. His ankles were also tied together. He was moving fast, though his body laid still on something uncomfortable. The faint smell he would receive if he ever helped Stan load groceries into the trunk of the Stanmobile. His eyes widened in shock as he remembered why his head hurt and what he was doing before he was sent to sleep. His heart picked up speed and he hoped he was wrong, though he highly doubted it. 

Ford was in the trunk of a car.

Now, it was nearly impossible to tell in the darkness, but Ford could have sworn he was in the Stanmobile’s trunk. It’s very well possible that this was any random car’s trunk, but if Ford was a criminal and had attacked someone he would want to get rid of any and all evidence, so taking the easy-to-spot Diablo seemed the smart thing to do, but were these guys smart enough to think ahead like that?

They thought he was Stanley. That worried Ford more than anything. He knew those four years his brother was on his own were rough, but he had hoped that was all behind them. Had Stanley really done something so horrible that “old friends” from years ago were still on the hunt for him? Ford didn’t exactly have time to ponder why he was kidnapped, he had to think of a way out of here! But how?! He was tied up and locked and he wasn’t like Stanley where he carried a pocket knife with him or a lighter wherever he went. Ford saw no logical way out of this and he was beginning to panic, his breathing increasing and his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

Wait, if they were looking for Stanley, and this was something he may or may not have experience in, then it was possible that Ford’s best chance of survival was to put himself in his twin’s shoes. Okay, so what would Stanley do? If Ford knows his brother as well as he thinks he does, Stanley would first let out a long line of swears and then probably kick the roof of the car to make him feel better. Then Stanley would use whatever he had on him to get him whatever he wanted. He was resourceful like that.

Ford laid on his stomach to analyze what he had to work with. He had his wallet in his pocket and his keys… were missing. Okay, so no tiny makeshift knife. Maybe if his hands were untied he could force his way out of here. Ford tried to see if by some miracle he could reach the knot and undo it like a puzzle, but these criminals knew what they were doing. His legs were tied together, so maybe he could kick the trunk open if he used enough force, but then the enemy might hear and pull over and shoot Ford to keep him quiet. However Ford escaped from this, he would have to be stealthy and quiet and try his best to disappear undetected.

That was impossible. Ford dropped his head firmly on the floor of the trunk and groaned. That got him thinking. What would Stanley do at this point? Probably hit his head a few times to try to get an idea. Ford wasn’t sure if it would work, but… Ford pounded his head against the floor steadily to try to think of something, growling, “Think,” with every thump. He had to stop, his headache getting worse and no sudden rush of inspiration coming to him. He huffed and rested his chin on the rough fabric. It’s possible Ford had no choice but to wait until he was let out of the trunk, and maybe then he could think of a way to escape and live to see another day.

Something tickled his nose. Ford blinked and squinted his eyes to try to see. Maybe it was his imagination, maybe it was his other senses making up for the lack of vision and making him think something was there, but Ford could have sworn some carpet was coming up from the floor.

Ford squirmed to where he felt the smallest change of atmosphere, to the corner of the trunk. There, hidden by carpet and too small for nothing but insects to have entry, was a hole. Ford could see the light of headlights and the pavement passing by quickly. He knew exactly what Stanley would do if he was in this situation and he didn’t hesitate to follow suit. Ford grabbed the fabric with his teeth and pulled back, revealing metal and plastic. This would hurt, but so would being killed.

Ford took in a deep breath before letting out his primal instincts. Like a caged animal, he began to chew his way out of the trunk of a car. It tore his skin and lips and he could feel his gums screaming in retaliation as metal scraped against them, but he had no choice. Ford could soon taste blood on his tongue and that with the taste of metal and gas and oil made him sick to his stomach, but he made himself push forward. He had to if he wanted to see his family again.

Ford’s hole had yet to grow any bigger, the metal too thick to be peeled away with a few bites, but it looked like it might be working. But then the car stopped. Ford froze and listened. He ignored the drop of blood falling from his lip as he detected two car doors opening and closing and heavy footsteps. He could hear voices, but no distinct words. Ford made haste and moved his body so his boots covered his only chance of escape, and he was soon blinded by the sudden appearance of light as the trunk opened.

“ _Si_ , that’s him.” A new voice growled. Ford blinked to adjust his eyes and he was met with two new men who grinned maliciously down at him. “This’ll be fun.”

* * *

They were driving through the woods. After almost seven years of monster-hunting in this hick town Stan knew his way around decently, so he directed Hephzie down some old dirt roads that the Diablo might have come across. With the gentle road of the motorcycle colliding with the sounds of the night, the two looked all around the forest for any sign of Ford or the car, but found nothing.

“I swear,” Stan growled. “If he did something stupid like go after a new weirdo I’m gonna…”

“Either that or he was kidnapped.” Hephzie theorized. “Has he done anythang recently to piss off Steve?”

“No, nothing.” Stan said. “The gnomes haven’t been messing around, manotaurs and unicorns stay at home, I can’t think of a single monster we know that’d go out of their way to take Ford and the car. We’re almost at the lake.” Stan quickly added into the conversation. “Turn left here.”

Hephzie did as she was told and soon the lake came into view. Their road had them drive alongside the large body of water, still far away from the shore. For a moment they appreciated the view of the moon and stars making the lake sparkle like glass. They truly had a beautiful home.

Something out of the ordinary caught Stan’s eye, making him gently elbow Hephzie, who then followed his line of vision, and they both saw the red car at the edge of the lake. Relief and irritation swept over them both; why was he out here? What, got caught up admiring the view? But then they noticed two other cars with the Stanmobile. Hephzie was about to drive closer, but Stan squeezed her shoulder warningly.

“Leave the bike here.” He hissed.

“What?” Hephzie said and looked back at her brother-in-law to find him as serious as death, not something you usually find on his cool, go-with-the-flow attitude. This immediately startled her and made her wonder how dire this situation was. Was Ford in trouble and Stan saw that?

“Trust me.”

Hephzie did, with her life, so she shut the motorcycle off and hid it in the bushes, then let Stan lead the way as they crept through the overgrown and listened. At the edge of the lake, the shadows of four buff men loomed, none of which resembled Ford. Stan held out an arm to make Hephzie stop and they rested on their knees to watch. The four men were around the trunk of the Diablo, the back wide open and the front pointed to the lake, the front tires almost touching the water.

“He won’t last long.” A voice, only familiar to Stan, grunted. His heart froze as his worst fear was realized. _“Espero que muera.”_

“Let’s just set sail and beat it, _amigo_.”

“No,” The first voice said calmly, and the woods was disturbed by the click of a handgun, “Let us make sure he stays dead this time.”

Hephzie made a sudden movement to jump out from hiding and run towards her husband, but Stan grabbed her arm just in time and pinned her against his chest, a hand over her mouth as he bit his lip.

A loud blast rang through the forest, making birds leave a pinetree. Hephzie screamed behind Stan’s hand, who elbowed her ribs and shushed her, his voice gentle despite his harsh hold and aggressive body. “I know, I know, but shut it.” He begged as quietly as possible.

Hephzie held her breath as the trunk of the Diablo was slammed shut and the two silent men pushed the neutral car into the lake. The four men watched as the Diablo sunk slowly into the lake until it was gone. The two Pines’ hearts were racing, and Hephzie made another small movement to try to move, but Stan held her tighter and hissed in her ear, “Not yet. Wait.”

The men piled into their cars once they were sure their victim's chances of survival or even discovery were next to none. The second the two cars were gone, leaving the lake peaceful and clear, Hephzie elbowed Stan off of her and ran towards the lake with all of her might. “Why _the hell_ did you stop me?!” She screamed as she ran.

“What were you gonna do?!” Stan growled angrily, running by her side. “Those guys had us outnumbered and outgunned! If we had just charged at them they would’ve shot us and then Ford!”

“But…”

“Even if by some miracle we could’ve kicked their asses, they would come back one day until the job was done. Now they’ll leave us alone.” Stan said firmly as they hurried to the lake and started to swim into it, not even sparing a moment to remove their clothes or shoes. Every second counted. Stan dove his head in and then came back up to say, “It’s not too far deep. In the sand. Our best chance is to bring the car up to shore so I can pick the lock.”

Hephzie didn’t have time to argue about their delay or say a word about his orders. She only nodded and dove under water, taking a huge gulp of air with her.

It was dark, but the moon gave just enough light for the silhouette of the car to be seen. Stan was right. The Diablo had stopped at a rock on the way down just as it was out of sight. With Hephzie at the front, pushing, and Stan at the back, pulling, they used their bottled-up adrenaline to slowly bring the neutral car up the sand. Soon Stan’s head broke the surface, then Hephzie’s. While they could breathe, it was unsure if Ford could do the same. Or was even capable of it.

The car was half-out of water when they were certain it wouldn’t go sliding back into the lake. Hephzie hurried to where Stan was picking the lock with some wire from his jacket’s pocket. It clicked, and suddenly the two were full of dread. They may find their worst nightmare in that trunk, but what choice did they have? Stan took in a deep breath, Hephzie bit her lip, and the ex-conman lifted the trunk.

* * *

Ford thought he had felt his worst when the four men jumped him, punching and kicking to their heart’s content, vexing any anger they had on his body like he was a punching bag. His glasses were broken, one eye swollen shut, his nose was definitely broken. His whole body hurt beyond past experiences; this was nothing compared to bad boxing days or bullies back in Ford’s childhood. At least then it eventually stopped. Now it seemed like it would never stop.

He was still tied up. He was lying on his front, wheezing, refusing to whimper, when it finally stopped. The whole time the attack happened, and the whole time the men spoke over him, Ford kept one thing on his mind, a candle in a dark cave, the one good thing from all of this: his family was safe.

Stanley was okay. His enemies wouldn’t hurt him anymore. They thought Ford was Stanley, so once they were finished with him, they would be long gone. Ford could live with that. It was his fault that Stanley even met them, anyways. Hephzibah was okay. They hadn’t tried to use her as bait, thank Moses. Ford wouldn’t have put it past them to go that far.

He was slowly coming to the realization that he might not see them again.

There was no plausible way out of this. Unless somehow the Gobblewonker swooped in and scared the gang off, there was no chance in Ford coming home. That hurt more than any beating he could ever receive. That scared him more than any criminal or monster. But at least his family would be okay. They had convinced the young scientist that he would be missed; Hephzibah would be heartbroken and Stanley would harbor a lot of guilt, but they were both strong and they would have each other; they would be okay. Ford smiled into the dirt as their faces appeared clearly in his mind, smiling and happy. He latched onto that image.

“Let’s just set sail and beat it, amigo.” A voice said. Set sail? Ford now half-wished he had paid more attention to what the men had been saying. What were they going to do to him?

“No,” The first voice said calmly, and the splashing of the water on the sand was disturbed by the click of a handgun, “Let us make sure he stays dead this time.”

Ford’s heart stopped, but he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm. He kept his family’s smiles vivid in his mind. He returned a smile to them.

A loud bang made his ears ring. At first, he didn’t feel anything, but then slowly a painful, burning feeling erupted from the right side of his abdomen, the side exposed to the men. Very quickly, as the pain grew worse and worse, his strength left him. Ford felt very dizzy, it was harder to breathe, and he wondered if this was what it was like to die.

He could feel himself being lifted and then harshly let down back into the trunk. His heart sped up. No, no, not this again. He heard it shut and waited for a motor, but no such noise came. He heard two small thuds through the pounding heart in his ears and he could hear the small waves of the lake. It reminded him of the ocean, of his childhood, playing with his twin on the shore.

The little hole that could have been his saving grace was letting water flow in. If it wasn’t for his leaving energy, Ford would have been freaking out, but he didn’t have the strength to care. So either he’ll die from drowning or the bullet lodged in his ribs. Ford tried to breathe, to enjoy oxygen in his lungs while he could, but he coughed and could soon taste blood on his tongue. He sighed tiredly and willed himself to think of his family again.

Ford’s heart broke. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t done. He didn’t want to leave his family behind, but he didn’t have a choice. At least he had the chance to make things right with Stanley; this July it would be seven years of the Mystery Twins kicking butt together again. It would also be seven years of marriage to the love of his life. Ford’s heart broke a little bit more. He didn’t even have the chance to start a family with Hephzibah.

The water was slowly seeping into the trunk. Ford made himself lay so his head was up and he would have time until the water reached his airways, but the water never even passed his ears. It was slow going. That had to be it. There was no way it was actually going back down. Then he could hear scraping against the trunk. A rock or a stick or something. But then the trunk opened and two shadows loomed over him. His vision was terrible thanks to the darkness, broken glasses, and black eye, but the voices he heard told him what he needed to know.

“Stanford! Stanford, baby, can ya hear me?” His wife pleaded as she cupped his cheek and felt his heartbeat by his neck.

“Holy Moses, he’s still hanging on! We gotta get him to the hospital!”

“Hold on, he’s bleeding way too much, gimme a sec.”

“Heph…”

“I know what I’m doing, Stanley! I’m a doctor!” Ford could feel pressure being applied to his wound. It hurt immensely and he wished whoever it was would stop pushing so firmly.

“You deliver babies!”

“I know the basics on what to do, now shut up n’ help me carry your brother!”

Ford then felt himself being lifted, a pair of arms by his shoulders and another at his legs. He blinked to try to see better, but all that was in his view was the stars. He was then sat on a small seat and kept up right by someone sitting behind him and in front. Then Ford could feel his hair being ruffled by the wind and it felt like they were moving very fast.

He rested his head on someone’s shoulder, the one in front of him, and he could smell coconut oil. Ford smiled peacefully. “Hephzibah…”

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.” Her voice said soothingly as the sound of a motorcycle started. “Stan, keep him upright.”

Ford felt himself sitting back and he forced his eyes open. He could see his twin above him, looking down at him and holding Hephzibah’s beautiful jacket over his wound. “Stanley…”

“It’s okay, brother, I gotcha.” He said firmly and smiled at him unconvincingly. “You’re gonna be just fine.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Shut up.” Stanley interrupted. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine, just hold on, okay?”

“Lee…”

The motorcycle came to a sudden stop and this time Ford could feel just one person carrying him. It felt like Stanley was carrying him while he heard Hephzibah yelling instructions ahead of them. Despite the chaos and uncertainty, despite that he was barely hanging on, Ford felt much better in his twin’s arms than in that trunk. 

He forced his eyes open, his hearing sounding more like one consecutive ringing sound now, and he could see his wife standing in front of him. Ford mustered some strength to reach for her hand and he took it gently. He smiled to see her looking at him and squeezing his hand. She kissed his six fingers as more people came and Stanley lifted him up on a gurney. “I love you.” Hephzibah said. She sounded so sad.

Ford wanted to tell her he loved her, too, but before he could he felt himself slip into darkness.


	5. The Aftermath

_Stanley sat with his knees by his chin at the edge of the ravine outside of Glass Shard Beach. Smoke was rising up from below him. The hippy van was a goner, just as he planned. Stanley should be doing a cocky-dance for victory, but instead he was letting the last words Carla had shouted in his face echo in his mind._

_“You IDIOT! I left you for Michael because he’s actually_ not _a bad guy! He may not be the smartest guy around and sure his ideas are a little weird, but at least_ he’s _not a selfish jerk who only cares about himself!” And then she had turned around, her beautiful hair flying everywhere, marched off to that hippy boyfriend of hers, took his hand, and walked away with him._

_Stanley wasn’t sure what his plan was. What, was destroying Carla’s boyfriend’s van somehow going to make her go back to him? If he was going to try to win Carla back, he could have come up with something better, but the fact was that Stanley had been angry and hurt and lashed it out on that rainbow-vehicle. Now he was alone and didn’t know what to do about Carla._

_Maybe it would have been easier to let her go if Stanley knew why she had left him, but he had no clue until tonight. One minute they were dancing at The Joke Joint and the next she was hugging that hippy. What did he have that Stanley didn’t? Well, right now, Carla. Maybe she was right. Maybe she hadn’t left Stanley because of some hypnotizing music or poisoning incense. Maybe Carla had left Stanley because he just wasn’t a good person. It seemed like all he ever did was lie and cheat and…_

_“Stan?”_

_He turned and saw that Hephzibah had climbed up the hill. She was standing a few feet away as the sun got lower and it got darker. Stanley smiled at her. “Hey, Hephzie. Whatcha doin’ here?”_

_“Lookin’ for my best friend.” Hephzibah said as she walked towards him._

_“Ford’s not here.”_

_Hephzibah snorted and sat next to Stanley with her legs crossed. She looked out at the view the ravine gave and seemed to be waiting for something. Stanley looked out at the view as well, but his eyes darted back to his childhood friend, his only friend except for his twin. One of Hephzibah’s greatest traits was that she was so easy to talk to. Ever since they were kids, Stanley felt like he could talk to her about anything, even things he couldn’t tell Stanford. She never pushed him to talk and was always willing to listen. And, hey, she was a girl, too! Maybe she could help him figure this whole thing out._

_“Hephzie?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“What do girls even look for in guys, anyway?”_

_Hephzibah gave Stanley a half-glance and said, “Every girl wants somethang different. Are ya seriously gonna tell me every boy on the planet wants the same thang?”_

_Stanley shrugged. “I guess not.” And then he was quiet. He wasn’t going to say what he needed to hear, and Hephzibah knew that._

_“Look, Stan,” She said and she put a soft hand on her friend’s back. “Carla’s an idiot for leavin’ ya. You’re a sweet guy who loves his family more than anythang n’ you’re willin’ to go above n’ beyond for the people ya care ‘bout.”_

_“Carla didn’t think so.” Stanley muttered into his knees._

_“Well, she’s a stupid narcissistic bitch.” Hephzie growled. “I don’t care what anyone ever says, you’re a good man, Stanley.”_

_He looked up at her with big eyes as he remembered his brother once saying something similar to him in a cave. It seemed like the whole world hated him. It didn’t matter what he did, Stanley could never seem to do anything right or get anyone’s approval. Except for Stanford and Hephzibah. They knew Stanley better than anyone, and despite that, they stuck by him and claimed that he was a good person._

_Hephzibah was shocked when Stanley’s arms flew around her and he gave her a tight side-hug. She then smiled and hugged him back, not questioning it or having the heart to make a joke. Stanley just needed to be reminded that someone cared about him._

* * *

The pain was still pretty bad. Not any better, but not any worse. His whole body still hurt, his face ached, his side hurt so bad it was forbidden to move, but he slowly realized that things weren't; as bad as they once were. Ford could have sworn he was in a warm bed. And someone was holding his hand. He didn’t have the strength to smile physically, but his soul did, because he knew who it was. What he thought was humming was actually singing, and as he came around, the words were clear to him.

“I wanna make you smile  
Whenever you’re sad.  
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad.  
All I wanna do  
Is grow old with you.

I’ll get your medicine  
When your tummy aches.  
Build you a fire if the furnace breaks.  
It could be so nice  
Growing old with you.”

Ford remembered that song. Hephzibah wrote it for him. In the lobby of the hotel they were staying at for their honeymoon, there stood a grand piano. Hephzibah had nervously asked him to sit with her so she could play something, and Ford had excitedly sat beside her on that bench, thinking she wanted to walk him through some songs or study the ancient giant, but she surprised Ford had pulled out a piece of paper with notes and lyrics and sang a song for him as a wedding present to him.

“I’ll miss you,  
Kiss you,  
Make you a quilt when you are cold.  
Need you,  
Feed you,  
Even let you hold the remote control.”

In that hotel in Ireland, completely blown away by her love for him, he had to scrunch his eyes shut to hide how wet they were and he held her tenderly and croaked how much he loved her and wanted to grow old with her.

Now, in an unknown place, just after he had been unsure if he would have a chance to grow old with her, Ford rested peacefully. There was no way he was going to let go and relinquish the opportunity to grow old with Hephzibah. Ford then noticed how Hephzibah was holding his hand with one hand and petting the back of his hand with the other. It was soothing and comforting, one of the hundreds of ways Hephzibah could calm him down when he was anxious or upset.

“So let me do the dishes  
In our kitchen sink.  
Put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink.  
Oh, I could be the girl  
Who growls old with you.

I wanna grow old with you.”

At this point it sounded like pleading. Hephzibah’s throat sounded tight. Ford didn’t have the strength to reply or even open his eyes, but he could tighten his hold on her hand a little bit and listen to her sing for a few more minutes before going back to sleep.

* * *

The singing was long gone, but he still had an urgent feeling that he had to wake up. His side hurt, like he had a cramp or a knot. Ford tried not to move it. He slowly opened his eyes. His right eye was still pretty swollen, but at least he could use it now. The room was dark so that he could sleep soundly, but the little he could see was blurry due to the fact that his glasses were gone, broken beyond repair. Ford gradually started to recognize this place as a hospital room. He then became aware of someone holding his hand. He recognized who before he even looked down.

Hephzie was at his right side so she could watch the door, asleep as she held his hand. Her arms were crossed on the bed and her head and shoulders rested there, her face buried in her arms, sitting in a stiff chair. Ford smiled affectionately at his wife and squeezed her hand. Being alone like this gave Ford a chance to think.

Those men knew Stan, and had apparently come here for revenge. Ford found his brother asleep on the other side of the room, curled up in another chair. The injured twin smiled at him. His plan had worked. Stan was unharmed, uninjured, and safe. They were all okay. Sure, Ford was still in a lot of pain and would need time to recover, but he had protected his family, and that’s what mattered to him. 

The young scientist looked at the worried expression on Stan’s face and down at his own body. He was covered by blankets and a hospital gown, but he knew that under all of that he was recovering from a serious injury. As much as that had hurt him, he knew his family well enough to know how much this ordeal had tortured them, and he hated that.

Hephzie suddenly lifted her head out of her arms and blinked her eyes open. It seemed to take her a few moments to fully wake up and come to her senses. Ford smiled down at her and whispered, “Hello, my darling.”

“Stanford,” Hephzie sighed with relief and sat up, moving her chair to be closer to his head and cupping his bruised cheek as she bit her lip. Ford was sad to see her beautiful brown eyes filled with tears. She gently smoothed his skin, the soothing touch making him close his eyes. “Oh, thank God. I… I don’t know what I would’ve done…”

“I’m sorry,” Ford said quietly and covered the hand on his cheek with his own, warming her dark skin. “I’m so sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t have let Pa kick Stanley out.”

Hephzie blinked, a bit confused, and said with a voice as soft as silk, “Stanford, love, that wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was,” Ford muttered. “I should have said something, stepped in. He’s my brother, my twin, and I…”

“Hey, hey,” Hephzie shushed him, eyeing his heart monitor and recognizing his usual cues for anxiety, how he wouldn’t meet his eye, that particular look on his face. She slowly got up from the chair and sat on the bed besides her husband to be even closer. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Stanford. He’s home, see? We’re all here for you.”

“No, that’s not what I… if I hadn’t let Stanley get kicked out, none of this would have happened.” Ford mumbled, trying to make his wife understand. He was surprised to see her continue to smile, and something in her eyes told him that she did understand.

“That’s not true. Don’t say that.” She instructed both firmly and softly. “That wasn’t your fault n’ never will be your fault. N’ it’s over.”

“They’re still out there.” Ford suddenly realized and he tightened his hold on her hand. “They could hurt you. Or Stanley.”

“No, they can’t.” Hephzie grinned mischievously and said, “Let’s just say that Mustang doesn’t take kindly to her townsfolk getting kidnapped n’ jumped n’ shot.”

Ford’s eyes grew wide, or as wide as his injured eye could. Sheriff Mustang and Deputy Roosevelt were some of the best cops Gravity Falls had ever seen. While the two were of age to retire, there was no word on such matters yet and the two continued to make this backwoods town a safe place. “They’re under arrest?”

Hephzie nodded. “N’ thanks goodness, cuz once ya were out of surgery Stanley was ready to go kill ‘em.” Her smile dropped and she whispered, “That’s not a joke. I had never seen him so angry.” A shiver ran down her spine at the memory, but she quickly recovered and focused on reassuring her husband. “It’s over. We’re safe, n’ you’ll be alright.”

“What exactly happened to me?” Ford asked as he started to piece everything together. “They jumped me, then said they wanted to make sure I stayed dead, then…” He trailed off.

Hephzie continued to smooth his cheek with the back of her hand as she filled in the gaps. “Well, they tried to drown ya, but Stan n’ I got ya out in time. Once we got ya here they put you in surgery to get the bullet out. Ya were lucky. It passed your ribs and almost touched your lungs, but not quite. It also remained in-tacked, which is good, n’ they got the bullet out. You’ll be just fine. You do have a broken rib, but take it from me, they heal pretty quickly. But no monster hunts for two months.”

“Two months?” Ford repeated disappointingly. Summer meant more active anomalies, which meant more research and more monster hunts.

“Well, the doctor said one month, but I’m tellin’ ya two.” She said firmly with a genuine smile and kissed his exposed cheek half-apologetically. 

Ford opened his mouth to assure his wife that he was okay, but then he noticed Stan stirring in his chair. Hephzie followed his line of vision and they watched the bachelor stretch awake. 

Stan immediately stood and was alert, a bit red in the cheeks and ears due to his family looking at him. Ford and Hephzie also couldn’t help but notice that Stan wasn’t himself, holding his arm sheepishly and not meeting their gazes. “Uh… hey.” He gruffed, then winced. What a stupid thing to say. “H-How you feeling, Sixer?”

“I’m okay,” Ford tried to assure him. “A little stiff with some aches, but I’m okay. How are you?”

Stan snorted darkly. “I’m fine.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I dunno what you expected, Brainiac, you’re the one who nearly died tonight, not me. Though it should’ve been me.”

“Stanley…”

Stan went for the door and opened it. “Glad you’re okay, Sixer.”

“Stanley Pines, please,” Ford growled. That kind of dark tone was received for severe scolding or serious situations; it was enough to make Stan freeze on the spot, unable to look at him, his face hidden by his shadow. “Please. Stay. I want you to stay.”

The younger twin slowly closed the door again and turned back to the couple. Hephie looked unsure of what to do at the moment, her eyes going between the brothers. Ford took in a deep breath and then said, “Stanley, I don’t blame you…”

“You should.”

“Well I don’t.” Ford snapped and tried to continue in a gentler matter. “I’m serious. I don’t blame you.”

“They were looking for me.” Stan finally looked up at his brother, and his brown eyes were so cold that it caused Ford’s heart to skip a beat. “You didn’t tell them you weren’t me, did you? You let them think you were me, didn’t you?”

Ford shrugged with a cheeky grin, taking a leaf out of his brother’s book. “We are twins, Stanley.”

Stan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Well from what Hephzibah told me, you saved my life.” Ford said casually. “So I suppose we’re even since I saved yours by taking your place. Although, how in the world you became entangled with…”

Hephzie cleared her throat and shot Ford a dark look; he realized what he was saying and quickly changed direction. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. It’s over.”

Stan didn’t miss that little exchange, not by a long shot. He studied his best friends in the whole damn world and narrowed his eyes. Maybe there was a reason nobody ever asked him about his travelling days, those four years he was out on his own while the love birds were in college. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing.” They said at the same time.

“Look, Stan,” Hephzie sighed. “We get it, there are just some thangs ya don’t wanna talk about, n’ that’s fine, but if ya ever wanna talk ‘bout it, we’re here.”

“I don’t care who those men were, or how they knew you, or why they wanted you dead.” Ford said firmly. “All I care about is that you and Hephzibah are safe. That has been accomplished, and while some answers would be appreciated, they are not necessary.”

Stan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall by the door, one boot up on it and the other keeping him up. “Just swear to me one thing…”

“Anything.” The married couple said in sync.

“Okay two things. One: you’ll quit doing that talking-at-the-same-time shit.”

“Oh, what, like ya two don’t ever pull that twin thing.” Hephzie chuckled, pointing at her boys.

“No we don’t.” They said at the same time.

Stan shook his head and resumed what he was saying. “Two: swear you won’t treat me any different.” His voice was so… broken. Sad. Worried. He was pleading as manly as he could for his own family not to judge him for whatever they might hear.

“Stanley,” Hephzie muttered in shock.

“Lee,” Ford was also heartbroken to detect this. “We would never. You can trust us. We know you, and you’re a good man. Whatever you did, I’m sure we’ll understand.”

Stan bit his lip and looked away. Storytime. “It started in Florida. I got tangled up with this gang. I was never a member, but I owed Rico a favor for saving my ass from jail and so I signed up for a job he had back in Columbia. I hopped on a boat with some other gang members and we headed for the homeland. Just before I could actually start the job, Rico, Jorge, some other guys, and me were arrested at some bar. Probably got ratted out to the cops or something like that. We were all hauled to this prison in the middle of the jungle.”

“Ya went to a Colombian prison?!” Hephzie gasped in a whisper, afraid of exposing Stan to the whole building. Ford then suddenly remembered a conversation he had with his twin once in a supply closet the night before he and Hephzie’s wedding. _“Worst six months of my life. I was on the run with some guys from Florida. They were from Columbia and said they had a job for me. It's not like I had anything else going for me, so I went with 'em. Ended getting mixed up with some fucked up bastards and got thrown in a prison in the middle of the jungle."_

“Yeah. I was there for six months.” Stan answered plainly. “It was tough as hell, but with my dazzling smile and a few good left-hooks, I kept myself from being beaten to death out in the courtyard. I had a little money on me walking in and I worked in the kitchen for extra cash; it didn’t pay much, but it also lowered your sentence, but once I learned what was so-called-food was made out of… let’s just say it’s easier to shove slop in your gullet when you don’t know what it’s made of. I could also win a handful of poker games, but they don’t take cheating as well as they do in Mississippi. In Mississippi, they’ll groan and never play with you again; in Colombian prisons, they kill you. 

“Anyway, the point is after a few lost bets and some favors, I owed this guy Rico and his buddy Jorge some money and he’s got shitty interest rates. Rico kept asking me for his money, and I tried to pay him back, but it’s kinda hard to pay a guy piles of cash in prison. So, one night, he… he said he had a way to… to help me work off some of my debt... a way to pay him back a little... and…” Stan coughed into his fist and looked away in shame.

Hephzie’s eyes widened. She had an idea of what this Rico guy did. “No.” Her voice was barely above a breath and Stan didn’t hear it. Ford’s mouth was slightly open.

“He did what he wanted all night long, until it was time for breakfast. It took off a bit of debt, but it wasn’t enough. It… when we broke out of prison and got back to America, we went to New Orleans, where a part of the gang was operating a drug-cartel, a huge source of income for Rico and Jorge. I worked as a delivery boy to pay off some of my debt, giving eight-balls to their customers. Eight-balls are…”

“We know what eight-balls are.” Ford said so Stan could finish his story.

“Right. Anyway, but I also got a bit of money leftover working to pay my debt, just enough to get a shitty apartment under Rico’s nose and eat. I had just gotten that place when I called you, Hephzie, on your birthday and you told me you guys were gettin’ hitched.”

Hephzie bit her lip. “Ya came to our weddin’. Did they let ya go, or…”

Stan interrupted her with a cruel laugh. “Nah, I had to leave in the dead of night and speed down I-59 like my life depended on it, which it kinda did. But, hey, I couldn’t miss your guys' wedding.” Stan added to try to lighten the mood, but none of them smiled.

“So, if you had stayed, you might have paid Rico off.” Ford said slowly, thinking out-loud.

Stan’s smile dropped and he shrugged. “Or I might have gotten killed. I’m pretty sure you two saved my life in the long run.”

Hephzie smiled at him. “I had to invite my best friend, my brother, to my weddin’.”

“And I’m so very glad you made me.” Ford said to her.

Stan chuckled and then smiled back at them. He got a good image of his family, one beaten and one tired, still happy to see Stan and be with him. He couldn’t lose that. He couldn’t lose them. Stan grew serious and said, “Listen, love birds, I… I’ve done some stupid things in the past, but the whole Columbia thing was the worst one, so I don’t think we gotta worry about this anymore. If, though, this happens again, just do what they want and…”

“And lose you?” Ford asked. “No.”

“Stanford…”

“I said no.” He interrupted. “You’re my brother, Lee. I got your back. We both care for you too much to lose you if we can help it.”

Hephzie nodded. “Ya always say how important family is. This is why family is so important. In times of trouble, when the whole world’s against ya, sometimes family are the only ones ya can count on.”

Stan smiled sadly at them. “Still, if, God forbid, something like this happens again, just work with ‘em. I can’t live with myself if you got hurt cuz of me.”

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.” Hephzie said firmly with a cocky smile. 

“Besides, if the roles were reversed, would you do anything different?” Ford dared to ask with a confident smile that he was right.

“Hell no! I…” Stan stopped and sighed tiredly. “Okay, okay. Fine.”

Hephzie stood, opened her arms, and smiled kindly at Stan, motioning her hands towards herself in a motherly way. He got the message, smiled back, and went to her for a hug. It felt nice, way nicer than he would have guessed. Hephzie rubbed his back and squeezed his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged. It reminded him of the hug she had given him when he got to the wedding and had finally seen each other after four years. Stan held her tightly and he knew that it would be hard to let her go. With a final squeeze, however, the hug ended and Stan was soon pulled in by his twin.

“Wh…”

“Don’t make this weird.” Ford said in his shoulder.

That got Stan to shut up as he carefully hugged his injured brother, so as not to hurt him, but was beyond grateful that he was here and alive.

* * *

Stan woke up, coated in sweat and panting, and he turned over and vomited into the little trash can usually reserved for soda cans and tissues. A dream so bad it made him puke? That hadn’t happened in years. Stan wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, gasping for breath and laid on his back to calm down and breathe. After everything that happened to his twin, he kinda deserved such a bad reaction from a nightmare, but the dream itself… no one deserved to go through what Stan had been through. No one.

He was wide-awake and in no mood to go back to sleep, so the ex-conman slumped out of bed and decided to get some warm milk. Ford had sleeping problems and claimed it helped him out. Stan was careful to move quietly. His room and Hephzie and Ford’s room were on the opposite side of the house, but still. Stan, however, was shocked to find that Hephzie was also awake and standing by the open fridge in her light-purple silk pajamas; Her dreadlocks were down from her usual high-ponytail and they went down a little past her shoulders; Everest, the Saint Bernard, was by her side, sitting patiently, until he saw that Stan had entered the room and he trotted over to him.

“Hephzie?” Stan asked and rubbed an eye with his fist and then petted the big dog.

She looked up and smiled at him tiredly with the half-gallon of milk in her hand. “Hey, did I wake ya?”

Stan shook his head and tied his bathrobe around him a little tighter. “Nah. Nightmare. Why are you awake?”

“I never slept.” Hephzie sneered with a small smile. “That alien movie fucked me up.”

Stan snorted. “You see babies being born all the time and you…”

“It’s not the same!” Hephzie snapped, but she was still smiling.

“I saw that stupid video you left! They were both bloody and gross and rated R.” Stan walked over and swiped the milk from her hand. “And I know how you are with cooking. I’ll heat up the milk.”

“I was just gonna use the microwave.” Hephzie whined as she reached for the milk playfully, but Stan pushed her back by the cheek and held the carton out of her reach.

“Nope. It tastes better if you heat it on the stove. I got this.”

Hephzie quit and giggled. “Fine.”

She sat at the table and let Stan turn on the stove and pull out a pot. He poured the last of the milk in the pot and then threw the half-gallon away. “I’ll get some more tomorrow.”

“Hm.” Hephzie laid her head on her fist, her elbow on the table and her other arm folded so her hand rested on her other arm. Everest crawled under the table, a favored spot of his, and laid down to rest. “Ya said ya had a nightmare. Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Stan tensed a little at the memory, but he kept working on the midnight snack, pulling out honey and vanilla from the cabinet. “No.”

“Okay.” Hephzie said, respecting his wishes. “Just remember that I’ve had plenty of experience with your brother, so I could probably help ya, but we won’t talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna. I think the next movie we get should be a movie we can make fun of, like a cheesy romance or a comedy. Hey, that one ‘bout…”

“Columbia.”

Hephzie blinked. “What?”

Stan poured some honey into the small pot of milk and mixed it with a whisk. “I was dreaming about Columbia.”

Hephzie raised her head off her wrist and let her arms fall besides her other one. “Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Stan shrugged and used the tap of the vanilla extract to measure how much he should pour into the milk. “It’s not your fault.” There was a pause as he poured a few drops of vanilla into the milk and whisk it slowly. 

Hephzie looked at her brother-in-law’s back sadly. She had no idea what to say to make him feel any better. It seemed like all the things she thought of saying were empty and worthless in this situation. Stan turned to look at her and he was disappointed to see that look in her eyes. “You probably feel sorry for me, huh? I don’t need your pity, sis, you know that.”

Hephzie shook her head to clear it. “No, I… I don’t see you any different. You’re still as good as my brother n’ ya still saved my life.”

“I didn’t save your life.” Stan laughed coldly as he got out two mugs for the milk and he turned off the stove; if anything, he thought he ruined her life. 

“Yes, ya did. Ya n’ Ford made it worth livin’. I mean it when I say that ya boys are the best thang that ever happened to me.”

Stan sniffed.

Hephzie chuckled and then bit her lip to stop. “Stanley, are ya cryin’?”

“I got dust in my eye.” Stan gruffed and pinched at his eyes. He poured the milk evenly into the two mugs. “Just quit being such a sap, okay?”

“Okay.” Hephzie giggled.

Stan sat with the mugs and gave one to her. She took it into her two cold hands and sipped the hot drink. It felt like her soul was getting a much-needed hug. After Stan took a sip and leaned back in his chair with a sigh, he said, “So, that movie ya wanted to see, what was it called?”

“Oh, uh… Rise of the Gedi.”

“That Galaxy Battles movie? Please don’t tell me Sixer’s turned you into a huge nerd, too?”

“No, but I liked the first two movies. I thought ya did, too.”

“Yeah, they were pretty good. I liked that Chewie guy.”

“Oh, this guy?” And Hephzie imitated the purring noise he made perfectly, making Stan snort in his milk.

The two had a nice, easy talk until the milk was gone and Hephzie and Stan were both yawning uncontrollably. The woman with dreadlocks put the mugs in the sink to wash in the morning and the ex-conman sat in his chair and stretched his arms over his head.

“Alright, Imma try to get some sleep.” Hephzie yawned and started to leave the kitchen.

“Right, g’night.” Stan yawned and waved her goodbye without looking at her, being drowsy himself.

Hephzie paused at the door, looked back at Stan, and decided that he needed just one more firm reminder that he was a good person and that his family cared about him. She walked up to him, his back to her, bent down, and kissed his right cheek. “Love ya, little brother.” And then she went to bed.

Stan’s energy came back for a moment. His mouth gaped open. He even gently grazed the spot where his sister had kissed his cheek with his fingertips. It felt… nice. And Hephzie said she loved him. The milk had helped, but… he needed that. Stan smiled. Hephzie had only kissed him one other time, and that was when they were in the ninth grade.

* * *

_“Look up, look up,” Hephzie muttered under her breath as she held Ford’s cleft chin and used a disinfected washcloth to wipe under his eye, right where a brass knuckle had hit his cheekbone and cut his skin open._

_“He could’ve told us his cousin was in a gang.” Stan groaned as his bruised ribs had to expand to talk._

_Hephzie put down the rag and re-positioned Ford’s glasses so he could see. Sitting on the coffee table, she got a good, long look at the injured teenagers on the Pines family couch. Stan had a sprained ankle, a broken nose, a busted lip, and several cuts and bruises all throughout his toned body. Ford had a huge bruise on one side of his face, swelling his eye shut, and a deep cut on the other side of his face. His arm had nearly been dislocated, but had been stopped just in time, but it still left his shoulder and upper back pretty badly bruised, and his whole body was also covered in scratches and cuts. Their injuries could have been a lot worse if it hadn’t been for their boxing lessons, but they still barely escaped with their lives._

_Hephzie looked at her best friends gloomily. If she had rejected Demetri or had seen through his joke, then Ford and Stan would have been fine right now. Demetri was a cute dark-skinned kid, like Hephzie, who went to their high-school and had asked Hephzie out on a date, but it turned out to only be a joke. Hephzie didn’t even like Demetri that much, but the fact that someone had asked her out as a joke had hurt her feelings, and Ford and Stan had taught Demetri a lesson by beating him up, but the next day the twins had been jumped by a gang._

_“I’m really sorry.” Hephzie sighed._

_Ford looked up at her with a sympathetic expression. “No, we’re just sorry Demetri wasn’t nice to you. He should have treated you better.”_

_Hephzie gave a small smile and stood up to check the ice-pack on Ford’s shoulder and neck. “Well… it really means a lot to me… what ya did. I’m gonna getcha some more ice.” Hephzie gently picked up the ice-bag and started to carry it to the kitchen to drain out the melted water and refill it with ice, but she stopped from behind the couch, peering down at the twins, and had a sudden urge to show her gratitude. She sat the ice-bag down on the table, bent down on the back of the couch, and planted a kiss on each of the boys’ cheeks. “I love ya guys.” Hephzie walked off to do the task she sought out to do._

_Stan and Ford’s eyes were wide as they processed Hephzie’s affection. She wasn’t like most girls where she was all “lovey-dovey” all the time, but she made exceptions every so often to remind the people she cared about just how much she appreciated them._

_Ford smiled and whispered to Stan. “She said she loved us…”_

_“I know.”_

_Ford looked over to find his brother’s eyes huge and wet, his bottom lip trembling. “Stanley, are you crying?”_

_“One guy kicked me in the balls.” He croaked._


	6. Recovering Slowly

_**May 19th, 1983** _

  
Fiddleford had called the Pines to see if they were up for a visit and they gladly had the McGucket family come by. It had been almost three weeks since the whole Columbian gang incident and Ford was steadily recovering well. And so the adults sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee and sweet-tea while Tate played with Everest in the backyard. Fiddleford and Maddie were smiling nearly the whole time; they had been amazing friends throughout this whole travesty, sending hot meals and calling everyday to make sure everyone was okay.

They exchanged looks, as married couples will, and about an hour into the conversation, when they were running dry on topics to discuss, Maddie said happily, “Actually, we got somethang we should tell y’all… we’re havin’ another baby.”

Ford was frozen with surprise; Hephzie and Stan gasped with joy and instantly congratulated them while Ford stuttered for a minute, overwhelmed with happiness for his friends. Fiddleford and Maddie were jubilant over the new approaching family member, happily talking to Hephzie about recommended doctors in her field and other strategies and routes they might take that differ from Tate’s birth.

Hephzie and Ford knew her friends had only the best intentions; they probably thought this news would happily distract them from their worries; If they thought for one moment that sharing this news would seem attention-hogging or self-indulgent they would have held off on telling the Pines. Still, when they left and when the night crept on, Ford and Hephzie couldn't help but feel melancholy about this. And that alone made them feel even worse. Why couldn’t they just be happy for their friends?

That night, with both lamps on, Hephzibah and Stanford laid next to each other, on their backs, staring at the ceiling in thought. They both knew they should say something, but so much was going on in their minds that the idea of speaking was a little overwhelming, an extra task that they wanted to go without. 

Stanford decided to spit something out first. “It’s not like they know.”

“No, of course not.” Hephzibah quickly agreed. “I’m very happy for ‘em. Really, I am. They’re great parents n’ Tate’s lucky to have a little brother or sister.”

Stanford smiled fondly. “He is about Sherman’s age when Stanley and I were born. Hopefully they will be a lot closer than we are. Then again, with Stanley and I always together and having each other’s back, the elder-sibling dynamic didn’t really fit well. Sherman was very different than us and since we had each other, I think he always assumed we could do without his help.”

“Was he right?”

Stanford puzzled over the question. “I think things might have been easier if he hadn't assumed so, but things worked out for the best and we got along. Still, it would be a lie to say we are as close to Shermie as we are to each other.”

Hephzibah nodded, understanding. It wasn’t that Sherman Pines was a bad person (he really wasn’t; he was a responsible caretaker and a great dad); the issue boiled down to that, apart from being family, he and the twins had nothing in common. “I just hope that Tate’ll be much closer to his siblin’ than y’all n’ Shermie.”

“He didn’t seem that… engaged in the topic.” Stanford chuckled.

Hephzibah smiled. “A lot of times, when a kid’s experiencin’ this sorta thang for the first time, they’re unsure how to respond. So many questions they’re too young to have answers to n’ a lack of attention n’ time might cause the first-born to be less than enthusiastic ‘bout sucha big change. But a huge factor’s age. A two-year-old, a four-year-old, n’ a nine-year-old will respond differently.”

Stanford looked at her, smiling. “I suppose you have stories.”

Hephzibah returned the smile. She turned on her side and began to comb her husband’s hair with her fingers, making him melt in her touch. “One time, a little gurl gotta hold her baby sister n’ started cryin’ cuz she was so happy. Another gurl, slightly younger, held her baby brother n’ shoved him back on the bed when he started to cry.”

Stanford chuckled. “Ma said Shermie did that with Stan. He started to cry and Shermie was sitting on the bed with Ma, so he pushed Stan back in Ma’s arms and stood next to Pa to look down at me instead.”

Hephzibah giggled. “Oh! This other time, I was walkin’ to get some coffee when I spotted a little boy huddled by the wall n’ cryin’. It’s not uncommon, kids pitchin’ a fit, but this one seemed so sad n’ lonely, so I sat down next to him in coaxed him into tellin’ me what was wrong. He was about seven, I’d guess. He looked up in mumbled that he just became a big brother. I asked him if he wasn’t happy. He shrugged n’ explained that he wanted a baby sister but got a brother.”

Stanford rolled to his side and lifted his head up on his hand, his elbow on the bed. It ached a little, but nothing he couldn't ignore. “Wait, wait, he wanted a sister, but received a brother? And he was upset?” He laughed quietly; typically children wanted a sibling of the same gender.

“He said that girls were pretty n’ liked to to play house n’ dress-up while boys were mean n’ stupid.”

Stanford snorted. “Well, there is some truth behind that. I would have liked a sister. When I was about Tate’s age I had my heart set on one, believing the notion that girls were generally nicer, and I managed to convince Stanley that we should have one.”

“What made ya quit pesturin’ your folks for it?”

“Pa threatening to punish us if we didn’t stop.” Stanford said casually and quickly moved on. “But then two years later we met you and we somewhat received the sister we wanted.”

“Stan certainly did.” Hephzibah teased; way before she and Stanford dated, Stanley called her “sis”.

“It may have been my idea to have a sister, but I think Stanley took the idea closer to heart than I did.”

“I always wanted brothers. N’ sisters. Before I met ya guys, it was lonely. I don’t remember much, except for the way our old house n’ piano store looked, this little patch of woods I played in, n’ the sinkin’ feelin’ of loneliness. Grandpa tried to give me the attention I needed, renamin’ constellations n’ makin’ music with me, but he n’ Grandma were so busy tryin’ to keep us from bein’ homeless I had to learn to take care of myself. But still, I had always wanted a big family so I never had to worry ‘bout bein’ alone again.” And Hephzibah fell quiet, her eyes off of her husband.

Stanford studied her. He suspected that her desire for a big family was one of the reasons she wanted to have children. On top of that, something else seemed to be plaguing Hephzibah’s mind. He could tell. “Is something bothering you, darling?”

Hephzibah’s eyes met him again, but her smile was gone. “I’m happy for ‘em, I mean it, but it is possible to feel more than one emotion at a time. As happy as I am for ‘em… I can’t help but think… if it wasn’t for me we’d have one by now.” She croaked and pressed her mouth shut.

Stanford’s heart cracked when he heard that. He did some quick math in his head; it had been nine months. His heart broke a little bit more as he also began to imagine how different things might have been at this point, what they might have had. “Hephzibah, that wasn’t your fault.”

Her eyes were welling up with tears. Shame clouded her judgement and she turned her head away and blinked rapidly to try to make them go away, to make any sign of pain go away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, no, darling no.” Stanford ignored his tightening throat and aching side, and gently pulled her into his arms. Hephzibah held him carefully so as to not hurt his broken rib and tried not to cry. She wasn’t weak. She wouldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide anything from me. I don’t ever want you to hide anything from me.”

“I… I just c-c-can’t help but f-feel like I sh-should’ve done s-somethang different.” Hephzibah sobbed into her husband’s chest. “Could I’ve made a d-d-difference or w-were w-we d-doomed f-from the start?”

“Hephzibah, my darling,” Stanford petted her hair gently. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

Hephzibah said nothing; eventually she nodded.

“Can you say it?”

Hephzibah shook her head. “Not yet.” She wailed and cried heavier.

Stanford kissed the top of her head and just held her close. His eyes were stinging and his heart was a little heavier than normal, but while he probably should have addressed it, he decided to focus on one issue at a time and help his grieving wife.

* * *

It was storming outside, not hard enough to be dangerous but loud enough to be exciting and pleasant to listen to. Stanford was sitting with his wife in the thinking parlor, both on the couch and both reading a book, enjoying the fireplace and the stormy weather. Normally Stanford would do this alone but it was a nice treat to have Hephzibah home from work and partaking in this low-energy activity.

Still, if Stanford was being honest, he wasn’t truly reading; his mind was elsewhere as his eye gazed on the pages filled with words that were meaningless to him. He allowed himself to think, to dwell on a difficult subject. The more he thought about it, the more his eyes stung and the more his throat tightened. Eventually Stanford lowered his book and removed his newly repaired glasses, then he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Hephzibah saw this and watched him for a moment, eyes closed as he tried to keep himself composed. She closed her own book and put a hand on his shoulder. Stanford glanced at her with eyes filled with tears and he put his book and glasses down on the floor to hold her. Hephzibah hugged him securely and her husband quietly cried onto her shoulder.

* * *

Stanford was deaf to the small yelp he had gasped out when he awoke, covered in sweat and his nerves shot, but he quickly covered his mouth to silence his loud panting and he scrunched his eyes shut. If he woke her up again…

“Stanford?”

Shit. The recovering explorer held his head, six fingers entangled in his fluffy brown hair and he growled, “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

Hephzibah, however, sat up and rubbed circles into his back. “Everythang okay? Anythang hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.” Ford said firmly, angry at himself. This was the eighth time since the kidnapping that he had suffered a nightmare so badly it woke his wife. That first week had been horrible, but time and time again Hephzibah assured him that she didn’t care and just wanted to be there for him. Three weeks later and it was becoming extremely annoying and hurtful to his pride. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Rich or poor. In sickness or in health.” Hephzibah quoted.

“For better or for worse.” Stanford finished for her with a small smile in the darkness.

“Do ya want some water?”

“I would much rather go back to sleep.”

“Alright. Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

“I hardly remember it now.” Stanford said with a shrug. “Just the same as the others.”

“Maybe about how ya feel?” Hephzibah offered. “How do ya feel now?”

“Before, seer panic.” Stanford shared robotically. “Clouded with fear and scrambling for a way out, for a way to survive. Now… relief. Annoyance and contempt. And love.”

“Contempt?” Hephzibah chuckled warmly.

“Both for having the nightmare and the fact that I woke you.”

“Stanford…”

“I know you don’t mind,” Stanford interrupted, wanting to explain myself. “But it’s still… it’s like when you were a child and became sick somewhere other than a bathroom and had to leave an adult to clean it. Not only you do feel unwell, but now you’re humiliated on top of it all.”

Hephzibah nodded. “You’re valid to feel how ya feel. I won’t tell you to not feel somethang. But, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t mind being woken up. If anythang… This’ll sound stupid, but I’m actually kinda grateful to be woken up by your loud gasps or breathin’.”

Stanford looked at her, his eyes used to the darkness, and he stared at her in disbelief. “May I ask why?”

Hephzibah shrugged and admitted, “I’m beyond grateful that ya can still breathe, period. That you’re here.”

Stanford couldn’t help but smile at that. Why did she have to be so goddamn cute? “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Hephzibah kissed him and gently had him lay down. “Sleep.”

Stanford was happy to lie with his wife, holding her like a stuffed animal, and resting his face on her shoulder, using her chest as a pillow. Hephzibah buried a hand in his hair and continued to pet him, soon humming a lovely song quietly to soothe him into slumber. 

He slept with a smile on his face that evening.

* * *

Still recovering and forced to rest, Ford was starting to lose his patience. He could stomach catching up on some reading for the first few days, but now he felt restless; if he could, he would go exploring in the woods or even settle with fishing in the Stan O’ War II, but he was still forced to stay home, so Ford settled with a task he could sit and rest as he accomplished it: organizing the attic.

What first was somewhat tidy with a loose system in place was now out of hand. Really, ever since Hephzie’s grandfather died and they inherited some keepsakes. At the time, they didn't have the heart to go through his boxes and the Pines wanted to get out of Glass Shard as fast as possible, so they barely glanced at the items they took home, if they looked at them at all. Now Ford sat on the wooden floor with some boxes before him, sorting them into three categories: keep in the attic, give away, or move downstairs.

Ford opened one box labeled as “Hephzibah’s Keepsakes” and smiled admirably to find a bunch of things from her early childhood. There was a small black book full of baby pictures. Ford grinned at the sight of his wife when she was only a little over a year old, in a tiny white dress on a rocking chair, her fist in her drooling mouth. Ford happily looked at her pictures and admired how adorable she was; most of the photographs were from before he had met her, before she had turned seven. Her curls everywhere, her shining eyes, Ford couldn’t help but let him daydream of a baby that would look just like her, except maybe a little paler, and for that baby to be their own child.

The recovering scientist sat the book aside and looked at the other items in the box. There was a hand-stitched quilt. Ford opened it and held it out in front of him. It was barely big enough to wrap himself in it and was a little dusty, but it was soft and had a beautiful diamond design with the blues and reds sewed into the cream-white. Ford knew Hephzie’s grandmother sewed clothes and blankets if needed, so she must have sewed this for her granddaughter.

There was also a small teddy bear in the box. Ford gently picked it up, it’s little arms and legs dangling due to a loss of fluff, but the body and head were full and the fur, though a bit flat from overuse, was still soft to the touch. One of the button eyes was missing. Ford smiled at his wife’s old toy; he had never seen this guy before; she must have grown out of it before he had met her.

There were only a few more things in the box: some baby clothes that were out of date when it came to fashion, an office folder full of childhood drawings and paintings made by a child, and a piece of circular clay with a tiny handprint. Ford allowed a small “aw” to escape his mouth as he put his six-fingered hand over the print; it was much larger, showing just how little Hephzie was when she had made it. Ford couldn’t help but pray their children would inherit her perfect hands, not his.

“What are you doing, Sixer?” A scolding voice said behind him. Ford craned his neck to find his twin scowling at him. “You’re supposed to be resting! Don’t you ever just relax?”

“I’ve been relaxing for weeks,” Ford argued calmly as he looked through Hephzie’s old doodles. “And I’m resting now, see? Sitting, not moving, resting.”

“Very funny,” Stan entered the room and looked down. “But what on… Holy Moses! Is this Hephzie’s old stuff?!”

“Yes, these are all things from when she was a baby, look,” Ford opened the scrapbook and held it out for his brother.

Stan laughed and snatched up the book. “She was so cute! Is this her in the sink taking a bath?! Ha! Perfect blackmail!”

Ford rolled his eyes and reached over for another box, this one labeled as “Journals”. The box was indeed filled with very old books and journals, each book something different. One was filled with beautiful pencil sketches, one filled with watercolor-paintings. There was another one filled with poets and songs, sheet music and notes inked in between rhyming words of emotion or whatever was on George Cece’s mind. Ford’s jaw dropped; the sketches were all so realistic, the paintings were breathtaking, and the songs he read flowed so well.

“Grandpa was an artist.” Ford showed his brother some of the pieces. “I knew he liked to write songs, but I didn’t know he was so… detailed. Wait!” Ford started to get up, but Stan put a hand on his shoulder and firmly pushed him down to keep him seated.

“Not so fast, whatcha trying to get?”

“Do you have any idea where we put Helen?” Ford asked frustratingly.

“Helen? That old fiddle Grandpa played?”

“Yes, it was a wedding present.” Ford said as Stan got up to rummage through some boxes to find the instrument. “Hephzibah says Grandma bought that violin for Grandpa and gave it to him on their wedding day. He never stopped playing it since.”

“Kinda reminds me of some other crazy Cece who was given an instrument and now never puts it down.” Stan snorted.

Ford chuckled; it was true, he and Stan had given Hephzie that golden harmonica for the holidays years ago, and she never went anywhere without it being in her pocket. She played often at home, but Ford had heard a rumor that Hephzie played it almost every day at the hospital for fussy newborns to put them to sleep.

“Here she is!” Stan pulled out a small, thin suitcase, a carrier for a fragile instrument. He put it down on the floor between him and Ford and clicked it open. Cushioned in green velvet sat the polished violin, old but just as beautiful as any other stringed instrument. The bow sat next to it and the strings were all there and accounted for. “Wow! She’s a beaut! Think Hephzie knows how to play her?”

“It’s possible,” Ford speculated. “But she once told me she grew up with the unspoken rule that no one was allowed to touch Helen, so she might not have a clue how to play.” Ford glanced down at George Cece’s sheet music and added, “We’ll ask Hephzibah when she gets home. Maybe she can play some of Grandpa’s songs.”

“Lemme see some of that.” Stan read the lyrics and smiled. He was no expert on reading sheet music, but she knew a good song when he saw one. “I’d like to hear this one. Patient is the Night.”

“What are y’all up to?” Hephzie’s voice came from the doorway and the boys turned to find her standing there. She must have just come home from work.

“Check it, sis!” Stan said and held out the violin in her case.

“Helen!” Hephzie gasped happily and knelt beside her husband to kiss his cheek and accept the instrument in her arms. “She used to sing to me every night when I was a little gurl.”

“Do you know how to play?” Ford asked.

“Oh, it’s been years, sweetheart,” Hephzie answered as she shook her head. “I mean, Grandpa taught me the basics, but I would have to reteach myself before I even attempt a song. Speakin’ of which, lookie here! Y’all found his songs!”

Ford nodded and handed her some papers. “I didn’t know Grandpa was a musician.”

“He was everythang.” Hephzie answered as she was reminded of old lullabies and painting from her childhood. “Grandpa drew, wrote, played music, sewed…”

“Wait, Grandma didn’t sew this?” Ford asked and held out the quilt.

Hephzie snorted. “Grandma didn’t have the patience. She only did clothes if she had to. Remember, she made my coat of many colors? Wonder if that’s somewhere in here… Anyway, Grandpa sewed that for me when they first brought me home. I haven’t seen this since I moved to college.”

“I remember your coat!” Stan laughed. “You were a cute lil’ gal in curls and patches! Is there a picture in this mess?”

“I doubt it, we couldn’t afford a lot of pictures.” Hephzie stood and looked for a second box. “There’s a part two of Grandpa’s art here somewhere…”

“He was very talented.” Ford admired as he flipped through a journal filled with sketches of the beach and assorted flowers. He stopped at a picture of a baby and he knew the artist had used his granddaughter as a model. With a sweet smile on his face, Ford asked, “How have I never noticed this before?”

“Grandpa had a bad case of stage fright.” Hephzie explained. “He loved to create n’ add a part of himself to the world, but he didn’t wanna expose himself to everyone like that. Grandma tried to guilt him into sellin’ his art n’ music when times were tough, but he said his work wasn’t for the world, they were for his family n’ loved ones. Here we go!”

Hephzie pulled out another box, also labeled “Grandpa’s Art” and she set it down and opened it. More journals were filed into it and Hephzie was on the hunt for something specific. “I wish he had been open ‘bout it to ya guys. Y’all were some of his favorite models. Check it out.” Hephzie held out a detailed pencil drawing of the boys when they were children, playing pirates. Stan wore an eyepatch and Ford was on the offense with a wooden sword, but even though it was hand drawn, the detail was astounding and it looked so realistic. Everything from Ford’s fluffy hair in the wind to the wood parts on the toy swords to the specks of sand below their shoes was beautifully woven into this piece.

Stan and Ford gasped and Stan carefully took the drawing. “Holy Moses, Grandpa was a genius!”

“Did he do this from memory?” Ford asked.

“Yup.” Hephzie said proudly. “There’s a whole bunch in here.” And she pulled out a stack of Ford reading a book, Stan in a boxing pose, the three sitting on a bench and eating ice cream. Among the drawings they saw a sketch or two of Ma and Grandma and anyone else Grandpa cared about. “He always said the world was his muse. If you’re gonna create, it should be what ya care ‘bout, n’ he loved ya both very much.”

The twins were definitely not blushing over that statement. “Well, we shouldn’t just file these away to collect dust.” Ford said. “We should pick some of Grandpa’s drawings to frame and hang around the house.”

“Good idea, Poindexter.” Stan said and stood up. “Now that you’re home, sis, I’ll get started on dinner.”

As Stan left, Hephzie gently lifted Helen the violin from her case and sighed peacefully. “It’s been so long…”

“Do you think you’ll try to learn how to play?” Ford asked gently.

“I’ll definitely try.” Hephzie said with a nod. “I want ya boys to hear her sing. I want our kids to grow up listenin’ to her sing. Though it’d be even better if a certain someone would sing.” She hinted and winked at her husband.

“I don’t sing.” Ford said firmly.

“Yes ya do, ya have a beautiful voice.” Hephzie begged. “Just one cord? One verse? Please?”

“Hephzibah, I don’t sing.” Ford said firmly, turning red. “I’m not even that good…”

“I think you’re brilliant.” Hephzie argued and kissed his cheek as she gently held his cleft chin. “Look, I know ya’ve got some weird notion that ya can’t sing, but I love your voice. It’s mean a lot to me to hear it every once n’ awhile, ‘k?” She then gently helped Ford to his feet and said, “Now ya need to get back to restin’.”

“I was resting!” Ford argued playfully. “I was sitting down and everything!”

“Stanford, you’re gonna have that injury for the rest of your life if ya don’t take care of yourself!”

“It’s already showing progress! I’m nearly fully healed, I’m only sore now.”

“Uh huh, yeah sure.”

Later that evening, when Stan sat on the couch and read his newspaper and Ford was reading a book, Hephzie joined them with Helen on her lap. The boys glanced up and exchanged smiles, and then patiently listened to Hephzie tuning and testing the cords. She testily tried a few notes, remembering exactly what each note sounded like and how it was different from her harmonica or a piano. 

Starting to remember how to play a violin, she slowly began a song Stan and Ford had never heard before. Helen sang quietly, like a lullaby, and graced the whole house with music. The twins instantly felt much more relaxed than before, though they didn’t think it was possible, and Everest, who had been lying by Ford’s feet, a good guard dog since his human had been stabbed, perked up and howled happily along to the music.

Hephzie laughed and said, “Good boy, Everest! Sing for me, will ya?”

“Along the fields of straw and clover,  
Clocked in 'til the work day's over.  
Time’s a gentle stream, longer than it seems.  
Patient is the night.”


	7. Family Quarrels

_**February 25th, 1977** _

One cold winter night, as they all sat in the living room playing poker on the card table, Hephzibah sighed and slammed her cards down. "That's it, I fold."

"Tough luck, sis." Stanley sneered and showed his cards. He had a royal flush, making Stanford and Hephzibah groan, and the ex-conartist laughed as he dragged the oreos towards him, playing with cookies instead of coins.

Hephzibah managed to snag one and pop it into her mouth before anyone could stop her. Stanford gathered up all the cards to shuffle, not trusting his brother to do so fairly (Plus, having six fingers proved to be an advantage when it came to shadow-puppets, playing the piano, and shuffling cards or rolling dice).

The phone rang from the hall and Hephzibah got up to get it. "Guard my cards with your life, Fordsie." She instructed and left to answer the phone call.

Stanford shuffled the cards and was passing them out. He kept an ear on his wife; it wasn't uncommon for her to get a call from the hospital requesting that she come in and help, so he mentally prepared himself for her to have to rush out the door and help with a delivery or cover a nurse so they could help in another department.

"Hephzibah Pines speakin'." There was a pause, and then she said in a slightly nervous tone, "Yes, he is. Is everythang okay?"

There was an even longer pause. Stanford stopped shuffling the cards and listened. When Stanley noticed this, he listened as well. They could hear Hephzibah say things in a shocked tone like "oh" and "uh, huh" and "yes, ma'am".

Finally she concluded with a strained voice, "Yes, I'll…. I'll be there as soon as I can. Please, just…. do whatever ya can. Thanks... thanks. Goodbye."

They heard the phone being hung back up on the wall, and then what sounded like Hephzibah laying against the wall and sliding down to the floor. Stanford quickly got up to check on her, with Stanley right behind him, and they stared at Hephzibah as she held her knees, buried her face in her arms, and may or may not be crying; it was too hard to tell right now. Regardless, Stanford sat on her right side and put an arm around her, waiting patiently for her to express what had upset her so much. Meanwhile, he racked his brain for what could have upset her. His eyes widened and his heart ached as he realized that only one thing could upset Hephzibah like this.

She let go of her knees, wrapped her arms around her husband's chest, and cried gently into his black sweater.

On the flight from Backupsmore to Glass Shard, when Grandma died, Hephzibah had been silent and still, daydreaming as she looked out the window and grieved for the mother-figure who had died twice. However, according to the doctor, Grandpa was still alive, so Hephzibah was an anxious mess the whole flight. She sat next to the window, upon her request, and drummed her fingers on the armrest and chewed on her lip and even took a Fiddleford approach and bounced her knee every few minutes. Stanford, who sat in the middle and was therefore by her side the whole time, gave her a concerned look. He wanted to say or do something for her, but he wasn't sure if anything he did would aid his wife at a time like this.

Hephzibah could feel her husband watching her; she sighed, looked at him with heavy eyes, and muttered, "I'll never forgive myself if I don't say goodbye to him, neither."

Stanford gently laid her head on his shoulder, kissed her forehead, and rubbed her shoulder. Hephzibah submitted herself and lifted the armrest so she could curl against his warm chest. She kept a hand over his heart and often listened to the beat, magnetized. Stanford hoped that they would somehow make it in time or Grandpa would pull through; the six-fingered scientist knew Hephzibah always felt guilty for never saying goodbye to Grandma or being there when she died. The last time she had spoken to Grandma was at the holidays, promising to be back for Spring Break. She had died right before Hephzibah was scheduled to come home, and even though it would have made no difference to Grandma and Hephzibah could have done nothing else, the granddaughter still felt guilty. Grandpa was her hero, her idol. If she missed this… Stanford didn't want to think of it.

The usual flight, which often felt short, was painfully long it seemed. The three ran outside with small suitcases, bringing as little as possible, and Stanley whistled for a taxi and they hurried to the hospital. They ran for the front desk and Hephzibah shakily requested to see her grandfather.

A doctor met them outside of his room and addressed Hephzibah directly. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Pines, we've done everything we can for your grandfather, but it doesn't look good. He'll be lucky if it makes it another day. If I were you, I'd prepare to say goodbye."

Hephzibah nodded, having already prepared herself for this, and turned to the twins. "I… I wanna… that is… I'm sorry, but I… I'd like a minute alone with him."

Stanford and Stanley both smiled softly at her, understanding completely, and Stanley patted her back and plopped down in a chair next to the door. Stanford kissed her cheek and said, "We'll be right here if you need us."

Hephzibah kissed his lips in thanks, and then went inside.

The door was dimly lit. It was early in the morning, so early in the late-January day that the sun had not risen yet and probably would not for another hour or so. Hephzibah shedded her black-leather jacket and scarf and sat them on the back of the chair as she looked down at her grandfather. She had just talked to him a week or so ago, and had seen him for the holidays, surprising him for Kwanzaa. Hephzibah would have never known then, or during a phone call a week ago, that his time was limited, but now he looked slightly paler and he wasn't sleeping soundly by his facial expression.

Grandpa opened his tired eyes, looked at Hephzibah, and smiled. "Hey, Half-Pint."

Hephzibah smiled with a trembling lip and held his left hand, the hand on her side. "Hi, Grandpa. W-Why didn't ya tell me ya didn't feel good?"

"Cuz I felt fine, sweetheart." Grandpa said honestly. "I felt just fine 'til yesterday. That's how it goes."

Hephzibah chuckled weakly. "I guess so."

There was silence as Grandpa looked over his granddaughter. He smiled weakly and said in a quiet voice, "I'm so proud of ya, Hephzibah."

She smiled sadly. "All I've ever done is try to do that."

"Ya don't even have to try, but regardless, I'm very proud of ya, Half-Pint. You've become a beautiful, strong, wise young lady with a big heart n' a good mind to go with it. You're my pride n' joy, n' I know you're gonna be just fine n' have beautiful kids of your own some day."

"I wouldn't be where I am without ya." Hephzibah said and squeezed his hand gently. "I love ya, Grandpa. You're my hero. Ya inspire me everyday to work hard n' be more like ya: kind n' sweet n' gentle n' just the best kind of person anyone can be. I can't thank ya enough for raisin' me n' takin' me home."

Grandpa chuckled weakly and squeezed her hand back. "It was an honor. I'm so happy I got to see ya grow up n' settle down." He blinked and looked behind Hephzibah before looking back at her. "Speakin' of, where's Stanford? He better not've let ya c'mere alone, now." He warned.

Hephzibah laughed a little, genuinely, and shook her head. "No, he n' Stanley are right outside."

"Well, bring 'em in, then. I gotta give 'em a piece o' my mind."

Hephzibah was happy to hear how strong his voice sounded; still weak but stronger than it had been the entire conversation. She nodded, kissed Grandpa's cheek, and went to the door and opened it.

Stanford and Stanley stood up immediately, anticipating to find her in tears. "Hey," Stanford said gently, ready for whatever was coming his way.

"Grandpa wants to see ya guys." Hephzibah said and opened the door for the twins.

They exchanged looks before walking in. Hephzibah walked behind them, but still in Grandpa's view, as they approached the bed. Stanford wanted to say something, but no good greeting came to mind at this grim time. Stanley, however, knew just what to say. "Lookin' good, Grandpa."

Stanford, on reflex, punched Stanley's shoulder.

Grandpa laughed a little, coughed roughly as consequence, then looked at the twins with stern eyes and a smile. "Now, I reckon I can't call ya boys no more, but I can - if you'll let me - still call ya sons o' mine. You've both grown up into fine young men, n' I'm honored that I got to see all o' that. Ya two, look after each other, n' continue to look after my little half-pint of sweet cider half-drunken up, alright?"

Stanford nodded. "Yes, sir. Of course."

Grandpa's eyes moved so they were directly on him. "Ya especially, son. I'm countin' on ya to look after her. You're a good man n' I wouldn't want anybody else to be with her for life, but I still gotta say this cuz I'm obligated. So, ya continue to take good care o' my half-pint n' keep your promises, cuz if I don't, I'll haunt your sorry soul 'til your time comes."

"Grandpa!" Hephzibah gasped, but they all saw the gleam in the old man's eyes and knew he meant well.

Stanford smiled and nodded. "Yes, Grandpa. I promise, I'll take good care of her. You have my word."

Grandpa nodded and smiled at Stanley. "I'm so glad I gotta see ya, too, son... We've missed ya... Ya take care now... n' don't ever forget again that ya got good people... that care for ya, alright?"

Stanley swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, Grandpa, alright. And… thanks for everything, especially for Hephzie."

Stanford nodded in agreement with what his brother was saying.

Hephzibah sat in the chair as Grandpa spoke with closed eyes. "Nah, I'm grateful. I… I'm ready to see your grandma again…"

Hephzibah squeezed his hand softly and then placed a kiss on his cheek. "Tell her I love her, n'... n' I'm sorry."

"Aw, ya know she loves ya, Half-Pint." Grandpa squeezed her hand back with closed eyes. "I know she… with your mother… but she loved ya so. So do I."

Hephzibah bit her lip and forced a smile, despite the fact that Grandpa couldn't see it. "I know. It's okay. Ya can go see her."

His face relaxed. His hand loosened. The line went flat and the beep was long and continuous. Hephzibah spilt like a broken dame. She collapsed on the side of the bed, her arms crossed and her head in her arms, as she sobbed openly. Hephzibah never cried, never, but she had one weak spot when it came to her tears: death. When Grandma died, Hephzibah allowed herself one moment with Stanford in his dorm room to cry freely. Now, she allowed herself this one moment before her father-figure's death bed.

Stanley was beyond shocked, not only to have seen Grandpa die, but to see Hephzibah sob like this. He had never seen her cry, never. Stanford stepped next to her and rubbed her back, but she jumped up and cried on his chest. Stanford hugged his wife close and kissed the top of her head, looking down at Grandpa's body with heavy eyes. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't going to miss the man that was more of a father to him than Filbrick ever was.

* * *

According to the doctor, Grandpa was feeling chest pains when he calmly drove himself to the hospital and checked himself in, so no one else even knew that he had died, so they used Grandpa's truck to drive to Pines Pawns early in the morning. Ma was ecstatic to see her kids home and hugged them all. Hephzibah hugged her a little tighter than normal, and when Ma separated and saw the redness in her eyes, Stanford calmly explained what had happened, ignoring his father at the table, and Ma hugged Hephzibah again and tried to keep her own tears at bay; George Cece had been a good friend to the Pines for a long time.

Three days later and the funeral was held. Much like Grandma's, it was held at their church. The crowd was about the same, George Cece being a friendly man with many good friends. The Pines family attended, even Filbrick showed respect for his friend and attended the funeral in order to say goodbye. Hephzibah did well keeping it together. More than well, actually; she smiled during the pastor's speech, Pastor Paul knowing Grandpa quite well and was therefore able to give a much more personal speech than the one he gave for Grandma. Hephzibah smiled mournfully and was given confused and disgusted looks as she did so, but she didn't care. As they walked from the worship center down to the cemetery just outside the church, Stanley got the courage to ask his sister-in-law about it.

"Hey, Hephzie, whatcha smilin' for, eh?" He asked with a smile, too.

Stanford glared at his twin from Hephzibah's other side, holding her arm as he walked her, following the closed casket, but Hephzibah chuckled and said with her same smile, "He's much happier now. He's with Grandma. Why shouldn't I be happy that he's happy?"

Stanley smiled back and patted her back in loving support. Stanford could understand where Hephzibah was coming from. Grandpa had lived for nearly four years without the love of his life, his wife and best friend. Stanford could only imagine what that was like, and the minute his cruel mind let him think of a world without Hephzibah in it, he saw little reason to keep going. His hold on Hephzibah's arm tightened, and they reached the grave.

Hephzibah hadn't lied; she was happy for her grandparents, happy that they were together and no longer in pain. Grandma could think clearly now, Grandpa's knees and back wouldn't hurt him anymore, and they were in a better place. However, no matter how happy she was for her adoptive-parents, no matter how many times she scolded herself and told her not to be selfish, a sinking feeling of loneliness and a voice that told her she didn't have a family anymore made her eyes well up with tears as the gravediggers lowered the casket into the grave.

Stanford saw this and gently pulled her into his chest to hold her. Hephzibah didn't want to look away, feeling obligated to watch them bury her grandfather, but she couldn't bear to have her tears displayed for all to see, so she hid her face in her husband's chest and held him tightly as she cried silently. Stanford wanted to look at the gravediggers' work for both of them, but his eyes were filled with tears, so he looked up at the sky and blinked to keep them from falling. It had been cloudy at Grandma's funeral; today it was bright and funny, but it was still cold, it being the end of February. Stanford felt Hephzibah shiver, and despite being the easiest to get cold of the two, he shed his black coat and draped it over Hephzibah's shoulders before holding her again, leaving on his suit-jacket, his white button-up, and a long-sleeved undershirt. Hephzibah took the time to slip her arms through the sleeves and then continued to hold Stanford close, and he knew he would never have to worry about getting cold with her body against his.

Stanley watched them, but his eyes stayed on the casket. He decided to look for them both. It may sound sick, but he was grateful to be here. He regretted not attending Grandma's funeral, but felt no guilt; he didn't even know she was dead until afterwards when Stanley had called Hephzibah and she told him. Much like Stanford, the old couple had always taken Stanley in like one of their grandkids, and since Ma's parents lived in New York and died by the time he was a teenager and Filbrick's parents were dead before the twins were born, Stanley didn't really have any close grandparents, but he and Stanford had always been welcomed at the Cece house. They would miss Grandpa, and continue to miss Grandma.

The church had put together a meal, a small party full of sweet music, delicious food, and good company, to feel better about the loss. The church had donated food and put the gathering together for Grandma. It hadn't exactly been fun, but it was nice to chat and the food had been amazing. Now it was time to partake in the meal for Grandpa's funeral, but Hephzibah, Stanley, and Stanford stalled. The friends from church went back first, to help set up and aid in any way possible, then Shermie and his wife walked a twitchy five-year-old boy back to the church, and then Ma started to walk Filbrick back.

Stanley watched his parents go and saw Filbrick talk in a low voice to his wife, but Stanley could catch the words "man up" and "pathetic", even if Stanford and Hephzibah couldn't. "Let me punch him!" Stanley growled.

"No." Stanford said firmly as Hephzibah wiped her cheeks and eyes dry.

"It'll make me feel better."

Hephzibah hiccuped a laugh. Stanford pulled out a handkerchief from his suit-pocket and gave it to his wife. "I don't really got any room to talk 'bout hittin’ him or not, so just use your better judgment."

Stanley chuckled and Stanford's lips twitched up into a smile, thinking of when the bride had slapped Filbrick at their wedding. "Nah, I guess Grandpa wouldn't like that, huh?" Stanley asked as the gravediggers continued to fill the hole; they were nearly done.

"He would've been much happier if there was a little more love n' mercy in the world." Hephzibah said.

Stanford opened his mouth to recall a memory from when Hephzibah first threatened to kick Filbrick in the groin when she found out he kicked Stanley out, but something distracted him. Across the street from the church, a woman was walking down the sidewalk for the religious building and graveyard, but that wasn't uncommon; the church was across the street from a neighborhood, so it was natural to see children playing or men and women walking, but this woman caught his eye. Hephzibah followed his gaze and she looked at the woman. She grew stiff. Stanley also looked at the approaching woman, who seemed to have started as a fast-walk, but was slowing down as she came closer.

Stanley had never seen this woman before, but she looked familiar. She wore black heels with pale and ripped high-waisted jeans tied around her thin waist by a bright purple belt, and she wore a tie-dyed tank-top with every color of the rainbow. On top of all this, was a fur coat that fluttered as she walked, but she quickly closed it to block the chilly February air. Her hair was short and frizzy and she wore silver hoops and painted her lips dark purple. She was a very pretty woman, but she had bags under her eyes and she seemed too skinny, like she could use a square meal. Stanley got an odd vibe from his homeless-days, and then it hit him; this woman looked so much like Hephzibah it was scary.

"H-Hephzie," Stanley stammered. "Is that…"

"Why don't ya boys go eat somethang." Hephzibah offered, not taking her eyes off the woman. She was walking up the stone walkway of the church, the one that separated the graveyard from the small yard children would run around in on warm Sundays. "I bet Alex is missin' his favorite uncles."

"Are you sure?" Stanford asked, getting the message, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to leave Hephzibah alone with this surprise visitor.

"Go," Hephzibah said gently, but with a hint of firmness in her voice. "I'll be fine."

Stanford nodded, kissed her cheek, and started back into the church. Stanley, on the other hand, patted her back, said, "Don't become a hypocrite, sis," and then he followed his twin.

As the men left the cold and went into the building, they stopped to talk.

"Ford, you don't think that's…"

"Who else would look so much like her, Stanley?" Stanford asked. "That was her mother."

"That cow is not a mother." Stanley growled like a protective bulldog.

"Stanley," Stanford scolded quietly. "All I know is that she had Hephzibah at sixteen and left her at the hospital. I can't even remember her name, but still. Until we have evidence that tells us otherwise, we can't have premature judgment that she's… we have to give her the benefit of the doubt, in case Hephzibah wants her mother around."

"And if she doesn't?"

Stanford gave a small Stan-like smile and answered with, "Then you may give her hell." And he went into the other room for a late lunch/early dinner with his friends and family. Stanley, who could think of nothing else to say or do, followed.

Meanwhile, Hannah was walking over graves haphazardly, whether she was uneducated about proper respect for the dead or just didn't care was unclear. She offered a meek smile as she approached the fresh grave and stood next to Hephzibah, but at a good distance. Hannah's eyes read the tombstone, but flickered up to Hephzibah every so often, catching looks of her daughter. Hephzibah kept her eyes locked on the tombstone.

"Ya look beautiful."

Hephzibah glanced up at her. She supposed that was one way to greet the daughter she hadn't seen since birth. "Thanks." She muttered. "I like your coat."

Hannah hugged herself, her arms already crossed in front of her chest for warmth. "A gift from an old lover o' mine. That may be ancient history, but this coat's style ain't."

Hephzibah had no words for that. A million things buzzed in her mind… the pictures that were hidden away in boxes in Grandpa's studio, the sound of Grandma breaking whatever she was holding when Hephzibah asked about Hannah, the many painful of Mother's Days Hephzibah tried to fill with celebration over Grandma and Ma, the questions that had plagued Hephzibah since she was a little girl. Well, she wasn't so little anymore. She was a grown adult that could handle whatever Hannah had in store for her.

"So," Hannah bent back to peer at the door and then looked back at Hephzibah. "Alicia, who was that?"

Hephzibah smiled a little. Stanford. Now there was someone that made her happy. She hugged herself, not much different than how Hannah was hugging herself, and Hephzibah breathed in Stanford's scent from his coat. It calmed her. "My husband, Stanford Pines."

Hannah gasped and grinned. "W-What?! Husband?! Well, that's wonderful! Wow, handsome one, isn't he? Can I see your rings?"

Hephzibah held out her hand and let her mother take it. Hannah's hands were encrusted in big, flashy rings, some with rubies, some with sapphires, some with emeralds. Hannah awed at the engagement ring with one diamond and two little jewels on either side and the golden wedding band.

"Oh, wow. A little small, but look how shiny! You could cause an accident with that thang, wow." Hannah joked and let Hephzibah go to warm her hand. Hannah crossed her arms over her chest to try to warm herself. "Any kids yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Aw, shame I wanted a chance to spoil my grandbabies. But that's great, Alicia, really it is."

"Everyone calls me Hephzibah." She stated plainly. She wasn't going to give Hannah permission to call her "Hephzie" just yet and she had no right to first-name her, like what her grandparents would do only if she had crossed a line, which that in itself was rare.

Hannah blinked in a confused manner and her smile became a little more forced. "What? Why?"

"It's my middle name. I go by Hephzibah."

"Oh." Hannah said and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She picked one, pulled out a lighter, lit it, took a drag, and blew it out in the winter air. She looked down at her father's grave. "Okay. I don't blame ya for tryin' to shake off a name. Lord knows I've been tryin' to ditch the name 'Cece' for years, but obviously ya did it first."

"Why are ya here?" Hephzibah asked. There was no hint of anger or even coldness in her voice, which, in a way, made it even scarier. It was like she asked an old college student what brought them to Backupsmore.

Hannah was a little more rigid. "What, a daughter can't see her dad's funeral?"

"Ya never really acted like a daughter."

"That's part of growin' up, sugar, ya leave home."

"Without a goodbye? No phone calls?"

"Ya know, it hasn't been easy, Alicia!" Hannah yelled and glared daggers at Hephzibah.

A breeze played with her dreadlocks and long black dress as she looked at her mother calmly. "I know what that's like, but you'll find ya can afford a fifty-cent phone call if it means that much to ya."

Hannah smiled again and took a puff of her cigarette, but her smile was wicked and cocky, nothing at all like the smiles Hephzibah could make. "I guess ya could. I'm sorry, but I'm here now n' I wanna make the most of it."

The breeze grew a little more powerful. Hephzibah brought the collar of Stanford's black coat up to her nose to shield her lips from the cold. Stanford's scent was even more apparent. It made Hephzibah feel more confident, like he was standing right behind her. "Where were ya for Grandma's funeral?"

"Nashville." Hannah answered calmly with a smile and took another puff from her cigarette. "I only heard about George's death from Mr. Bogart when he read his name in the paper back in New York City."

"Mr. Bogart." Hephzibah repeated. "Ya mean Mr. Peter Bogart, the founder of Snoody Man's Suits?"

"That's the one. He likes havin' me over for a good time n' treatin' me to breakfast. He was readin' the paper when he saw his name n' knew Cece wasn't that common of a name, so he asked me if I knew him. Anyway," Hannah waved away the topic with her free hand. "George was a good man. A bit of a love-struck fool n' a dopey artist, but…"

"Grandpa was a great man!" Hephzibah snapped. "A kind soul n' a humble artist who loved his family more than anythang, but unfortunately, his heart was broken by a selfish brat!"

Hannah's eyes narrowed coldly and her coy smile was gone. "Oh, don't treat him like a saint just cuz he's dead. Sure, he could sing n' play n' paint, but he wasn't perfect, Alicia."

"I told ya, my name is Hephzibah." She said firmly. "Why are ya here? What do ya want?"

"What's rightfully mine." Hannah snarled. "My inheritance. Did they still have that stupid store? Cuz it's mine to sell n' profit off of, as well as whatever little money they had. I'm their daughter, it's mine."

"You," Hephzibah growled and pointed at her. "Are not their daughter! As much as their daughter as my mother! They had nothin'! I'll sell the store n' use the money to pay for the funeral n' finish paying off their debts, but that's it! There's nothin' for ya here, so just leave!"

"Don't ya toy with me!" Hannah yelled back. "Don't forget, I've got powerful friends! I can get the best lawyers in town on my side for everythang they had! N' as for you! If ya think I'm gonna let some mistake like ya get a cent, you're just as crazy as George was! You've always been stubborn n' stuck 'round even when no one wanted ya, but I guess ya never learned your lesson!"

"You're wrong!"

"Oh, yeah? Well where are the people that wanted ya 'round, now?" Hannah yelled and pointed below their feet. "Ten feet under n' doin' nothin' good but feedin' worm n' maggots!"

"Stop it!"

"I knew before ya were even born ya'd be a waste of space." Hannah hissed quietly like a deadly snake. "I've tried TWICE to get rid of ya n' have a chance of a great life in L.A., but naw, ya had to stick 'round n' put me through ungodly pain."

"Life is pain," Hephzibah said dryly. "N' anyone sayin' different is sellin' somethang. But, there's good people in life that make it worthwhile, n' ya were the idiot who threw it all away just for a chance to be a movie star or whatever the hell it is ya wanted. But I don't want anythang from ya. There's nothin' for ya here, so just go." And, without another word, Hephzibah turned her back on Hannah.

Hephzibah's mind was spinning from the whirlwind of new information given to her. So, Hannah never wanted her. She tried to abort Hephzibah twice, but it obviously didn't work, so she ran away. Hannah was a stripper and making money by working the corner. She was selfish and self-obsessed. She only came here for the little money Grandpa had when he died. Most of this information was old news to her, having a good idea of all this and now only had it confirmed. Hephzibah felt that sinking feeling of loneliness again.

Stanford's anxiety got the best of him and he decided to check on his wife. He walked into the hall and saw that Hephzibah had just come in. She held his coat close to herself, breathing in his aroma, and when she looked up at him, Stanford hurried to her and held her. "Hephzibah, what happened? What is it? Are you okay?"

Hephzibah shrugged and said, "M'fine…"

"Hephzibah Pines, please do not insult my intelligence." Stanford said firmly and cupped her cheek. Hephzibah looked at his eyes and knew that he was concerned for her. She also knew that she was using that same marriage-telepathy that Stanford had used to know that Hephzibah was not doing well. "What happened?" He asked gently with that deep, soft voice that could rock Hephzibah to sleep like a lullaby.

Hephzibah took in a deep breath, let it out, and sat herself and her husband on one of the wooden benches outside the worship hall. Hephzibah told Stanford everything, everything that Hannah had said, the real reason she came, and how Grandpa and Grandma only had a little money, the store, the pianos in it, and the old truck. Stanford had never ever thought to hit a woman, ever, but when Hephzibah told him that Hannah had tried to abort her and then claimed that no one wanted her around, Stanford's hand clenched. He settled for holding Hephzibah's hand a little tighter with both of his own.

"N' I don't care 'bout the money, ya know I don't, but I'll be damned if she gets it or anythang else for that matter. That's my childhood home n' if I'm gonna sell it I want that money to be used to pay off debts or donate the rest to the church, that's all they ever said they wanted done, n' their will says so, but she's got…"

"Alright, that's enough." Stanford said gently and put up a hand to stop his wife from saying another word. "Darling, we're Pines. We don't give up without a fight. And you're right; I've read their will and it clearly states that everything goes to you to pay off the debts and whatever is leftover is to go to this church. Hannah can make any claim she wants, but as long as the will says otherwise, she can't even obtain the insurance money, whether she was their daughter or not."

"But if she…"

"I don't care what she does." Stanford squeezed Hephzibah's hands. "You've been through enough. You're not taking this to court and that's final. If you really want to sell Pianos for People and your home above it, we will. If you want to take home every item in that house, we will. If you want to donate it or burn it out on the beach for a fun bonfire, we will."

Hephzibah smiled, but it was soon gone. "But what makes ya say it won't go to court?"

Stanford smiled and said, "Don't ya remember Ma's friends, the Goldburgs? They go to the same synagogue. Mr. Goldburg is Judge Albert Golburg…"

"Is he?!" Hephzibah gasped. Judge Albert Goldburg was a local celebrity, the best judge in Glass Shard, probably New Jersey.

Stanford was grinning now. "I've already talked to him. I suspected that might have been why Hannah came here. He has already sworn that if this is taken to court, you'll win so easily it wouldn't be worth Hannah's efforts."

"Ya…"

"You've done enough." Stanford said firmly and kissed her hands. "Let me do what I swore I would do. Let me take care of you and make sure you're happy, my darling."

Hephzibah refused to cry again, but she could chuckle thickly with a tight throat and hug her husband. Stanford hugged her in return and rubbed her back. Even without his grief manifesting itself into a thirst to do something and help and without the promises he made on his mind, he knew he would still want to step in and show Hannah that she couldn't show up out of the blue, say those awful things to Hephzibah, and think she could walk away with the little things her parents had.

Since then, Stanford took care of most of the legal obligations so Hephzibah could grieve properly. By the time Grandpa's death had been a week, the piano store had been sold and was going to continue under new ownership and Hephzibah's childhood home had been cleaned out, all of the items either thrown away, given to friends and family, donated to the church, or saved by Hephzibah. She had already taken most of her personal items when she married Stanford, but she did take Grandpa's favorite records, his sketchbooks and painting and journals full of poems and songs, his viola, Helen, Grandma's old blanket that still smelled a little of her, and boxes full of photographs. They agreed to have a moving van ship the items back to Gravity Falls so the trio could fly back without any worry of forgetting anything.

It was hard, but Stanford offered to let Hephzibah lock up and she agreed to it. After one look around the house she grew up in, she closed the door, locked it, and followed her family to Pines Pawn to give Ma the spare key and say goodbye before going to the airport.


	8. Wizard Quest

_**June 3rd, 1983** _

  
Tate liked it at Uncle Ford and Uncle Stan and Auntie Hephzie’s house, but today he was bored.

Mommy and Daddy had to run an errand, so they left Tate at Uncle Ford and Uncle Stan and Auntie Hephzie’s house. He was excited about it, but now he was bored. It was storming so he couldn’t go play outside, Everest was taking a nap on the couch so Tate couldn’t play with him, and nothing was good on the TV and they didn’t have any movies he wanted to watch, so Tate decided to go exploring for something fun to do.

He liked it here in the house in the woods. Tate liked the pictures on the wall, some that had Mommy and Daddy and him in them. Tate liked Uncle Stan, but he had left to get something at the store. Tate liked Auntie Hephzie, but she was at work. Take liked Uncle Ford, but he was probably working in the fancy office with the fireplace. He wouldn’t get mad if Tate came in, but Tate wanted to try to find a toy or something cool first, then he’d go to Uncle Ford.

Tate knew it wasn’t good to be a sneaky peaky spy, but Uncle Ford and Uncle Stan and Auntie Hephzie never ever got mad. So Tate opened a few doors to see how this house was different from his house. One door led to a big bed with two dressers and a little bathroom. That must be Uncle Ford and Auntie Hephzie’s bedroom. One door had the other bathroom, which Tate already knew from all the other times he had been at this house. One door he skipped cuz it was the fancy office, and then one door he opened and he beamed to find raincoats, a vacuum, and a box of board games on the floor so Tate could reach.

Tate grinned and decided to pick a game to play. Maybe Uncle Ford would wanna play, or when Uncle Stan gets back he would wanna play. There was a small box of cards on the top of the stack; Tate thought that would be a good back-up; Uncle Ford and Uncle Stan liked to play Go Fish. Tate saw Connect Forty-Four, Don’t Wake Stalin, Battle Chutes and Ladder Ships, but the game on top of the stack and right below the cards a game caught Tate’s eye. He liked the big red dragon behind the funny looking wizard, some kinda monster with big lips, and the pretty elf with the unicorn, all above a table of people playing the game.

Take picked up the green box and smiled. He was only five, but Daddy taught him how to read so he could read the game and the rules. It sounded like fun!

Meanwhile, Ford looked up from his work to listen for the sounds of the TV, but he heard nothing over the music of the storm. He frowned and supposed he should check on Tate. It was probably unwise to leave him alone, but Stan was only going to the grocery store for a minute and Tate was fine in front of the TV with Everest, so Ford figured it was alright to settle in the thinking parlor and get some journal entries done. But Ford had promised to watch Tate while Maddie and Fiddleford were at the doctor, and while Ford may not be comfortable with the situation and no next to nothing about children, he did like Tate a lot. And if he was going to have children of his own one day, Ford should get used to entertaining young human beings.

So he stretched his arms over his head and left the thinking parlor to check on his best friend’s son. Ford continually didn’t hear the TV, so Tate must have turned it off and found something else to occupy his attention. Ford looked down the hall and smiled when he found Tate in front of the closet where they kept the board games, holding a box the child found intriguing.

“Hello, Tate.” Ford said and walked up to him.

“Hi, Uncle Ford!” Tate piped and looked up at him and showed him the game in his hands. “Lookie what I found!”

Ford instantly recognized the well-used fantasy-talking, level-counting, statistics and graph-paper involved game from college and grinned. “Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons! That’s my favorite game in the whole Multiverse! I used to play this with your father and Hephzibah years ago.”

“Wow, can we play it now?” Tate asked.

Ford held his chin in thought and smiled down at Tate. Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons was usually a complex and thoughtful game; you had to have a prepared Quest Master for starters, create a character and fill out a character-sheet, and use math and statistics a bit too advanced for the average five-year-old, but Tate wasn’t the average five-year-old. He was a lot like Fiddleford, and if Ford’s memory was correct Fiddleford had enjoyed their sessions, so the inexperienced babysitter shrugged and got on one knee to be eye-level with the boy. “Yes, I suppose we can play. This game involves both math and imagination, so I’m sure someone was intelligent as you will love it.” 

Tate grinned at the compliment and watched Ford grab a black backpack from the closet’s shelf and then followed him to the living room to play on the card table. Luckily Ford had what he needed to be a Quest Master and knew the game well enough for the job, so he let Tate use a basic character to learn how to play and to see if he would like it. Ford looked out for any sign that the boy wasn’t having fun, but Tate took to it like a fish to water. The minute he learned he had to fill out a character sheet to play for real, he begged to fill one out and Ford happily showed him how to roll the dice and earn his character’s traits and skill-set.

Soon Ford had Tate the elf go on a magical quest. Tate found a dungeon by a river when he used his sword to cut away some plants, and Tate now had to battle boody-traps and devious gremlins to win the game. Ford started to roll dice in a normal manner, but after a while he reverted to his unique way: weaving the dice in between his fingers and picking it back up with his thumb, starting the cycle all over again. Tate nearly lost his mind and demanded to see it again. With hot cheeks, Ford happily showed the boy his little trick and Tate instantly tried to do it, too, but Ford chuckled and explained that it took lots of practice, and then it was back to the game.

“Alright, you enter the chamber.” Ford narrated, in his element, with the models in front of him and his guide for what to do, determining on what Tate rolled. Tate was delighted to watch his uncle light up and become more animated as he told the story. “Princess Unattainable beckons you, but wait! It’s a trap!” Tate gasped in horror as Ford wiggled his twelve fingers and imitated an evil grin. “An illusion casted by Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Oh no!” Tate yelled and shook the dice in his combined fists. “I’ll get him with my sword!”

“Hold on, he only has one weakness.” Ford chuckled. “Prime statistical anomalies over 37 but exceeding 51.”

“Oh. Isn’t an anomaly a weird thingy in the woods?”

Ford laughed; of course this kid would first associate the word with Ford’s field research from Fiddleford’s stories. “Yes, but… okay, okay, here’s what you do. You see the dice with 38 sides? Roll that with these two, and then I’ll roll these three, and then we get to do some math to see who wins.”

“Yay! Math!” Tate quickly rolled his three dice and Ford rolled his. Ford even took the time to show Tate on his notepad why you should add certain numbers together, and it looked like Tate barely beat Probabilator’s illusion. “Yes! I did it!”

“Good job!” Ford said and ruffled Tate’s hat. “You’ve got Probabilitor on the ropes! Now…”

“Ugh, are you serious?” Tate and Ford looked over to find that Stan had returned, a little wet, and with bags of groceries in his arms. “You’re teaching quirt that nerd game?”

“It’s not a nerd game, Stanley, you would like it if you gave it a chance.” Ford said with a smile and a roll of his eyes.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Stan said and sat his bags in a chair. “I prefer to do my dice rolling in Vegas.”

“C’mon, Uncle Stan, don’tcha wanna play?” Tate asked and smiled up at him. “You’re always a lot of fun to play with! You can even pick the weapon I get Probabilitor with!”

Stan chuckled and shrugged. “But if I play this nerd game, who’s gonna start a fire for these?” And he pulled out a bag of marshmallows and some metal sticks to roast them on.

Tate gasped with shiny eyes and hugged Stan around his middle tightly, thanking him repeatedly until he was out of breath. Ford chuckled and said, “We’re almost done here. By the time we finish the fire will be ready.”

“Great, I’ll heat up the stove, then.” And Stan went to go fetch the dry wood from a bottom cabinet in the kitchen.

After a few more moves, Tate the elf managed to take down Probabilitor and send him running away and crying. Tate cheered and punched the air over his victory, and when Ford offered him a high-six, the child happily accepted.

Now the three sat on the soft carpet and in front of the wood-burning stove while they roasted marshmallows. Tate didn’t care how burnt his fingers and the roof of his mouth got, he was having fun. Everest got to eat one or two marshmallows thanks to Stan and the dog happily allowed Tate to use him as a pillow.

The front door opened and closed and Everest perked and ran, leaving Tate to fall back and rub his head. “Hi, Everest! Gentle, boy, gentle. Good boy.”

“Tate?”

“Daddy!” 

Tate ran into Fiddleford’s arms as his parents appeared in view with Hephzie by their side. While she plopped down next to Ford and kissed his cheek before stealing his roasted marshmallow, Fiddleford asked his son, “Did you have fun with your uncles?”

“Yeah!” Tate cheered. “Uncle Ford taught me how to play Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons and be an elf and kick Probabilitor’s butt!”

Fiddleford smiled with a raised eyebrow at his old college roommate. “You dug out that old game, then?”

“More like your son was nosy and I couldn’t resist teaching him a trick or two.” Ford answered and shifted his focus to Maddie. “How did it go with the doctor?”

“It was fine,” Maddie said with a shrug and a smile. “The baby’s healthy n’ should be here in the end o’ January.”

“That’s great!”

“Congratulations!” Stan said. “I’ll make my calendar! How ‘bout it, Tate? You excited to be a big brother?”

“Hm, I guess.” Tate said with a shrug.

“Ah, don’t worry, having a brother or sister is okay for the most part.”

“We love you, too, Stan.” Ford said sarcastically.

“Well, we better get goin’.” Fiddleford pipped in. “Thanks again for watchin’ Tate for us.”

“Hey, it’s the least we could do for babysitting Everest.” Stan pointed out.

“Can we play again tomorrow, Uncle Ford?” Tate asked as he got down from Fiddleford’s arms.

Ford grinned and looked up at Fiddleford and Maddie. “It’s okay with me, but that’s up to your parents.”

“I don’t see why not.” Fiddleford smiled and added, “Hey, why don’t I bring over my old papers n’ I’ll play with y’all.”

“Sounds like fun! Maddie, do you want to play?”

“No, thanks, Ford, I think I’d rather rest.”

“Of course. Hephzibah, feel like joining the session?”

“Ya want me to spend my day off playin’ a game that’s mostly math n’ writin’ n’ isn’t anythang like the picture on the box?” Hephzie asked, but then made a huge smile and ruffled Ford’s hair. “Sounds like fun!”

“Great! I’ll set up an enchanted quest for four brave players…”

“Hold it, Poindexter, make it three.” Stan growled. “I ain’t playin’.”

“But Uncle Stan,” Tate grabbed his arms gently and looked up at him with the chubbiest cheeks and even made his bottom lip tremble. “Please.”

Stan winced; he would hate to see the damage this kid could do if his eyes weren’t hidden by his hat and hair. “Ugh, fine! One game, but don’t expect another one from me!”

“Yay!” Tate hugged him around his neck and then took Fiddleford’s hand for home.

* * *

Everest, rather than join Stan for bed, laid under the card table and by Ford’s socked feet. The young scientist held his chin thoughtfully as he planned on where to send his gang next and he drotted some notes down and sketched out the dungeon on the graph paper.

Hephzie yawned into her hand, in her velvet light-purple pajamas, and smiled at seeing her husband working so late. “Stanford, sweetheart, it’s one in the mornin’. Come to bed.”

“In a minute, darling, I have to finish this in time for tomorrow.” Ford replied without taking his eyes off his work. “No peeking!”

“I won’t,” Hephzie chuckled and rubbed his shoulders as he shielded his work with his arms. “Ya seemed to have a lot of fun with Tate today.”

“I did! I knew we would get along, he’s a good kid, but we have more in common than I thought!” Ford reiterated. “I know he’s not his father, but he’s a lot like Fiddleford, but he clearly inherited his rambunctious energy and excitement for new things from his mother. Anyhow, it’s just been nice to get to know Tate better. It was just so… easy with him, considering I’m not the greatest with kids.”

“That’s not true, you’re great with kids.” Hephzie quickly corrected.

“Not as good as you.”

“That’s not fair.” Hephzie chuckled. “I deal with newborns on a daily basis. I think it’s obvious that you're way better with anomalies than me.”

Ford smiled and he could feel his body relax under his wife’s massage. “I suppose so. Still, I’m grateful to see improvement…” And then Ford suddenly stopped talking, picking up the pace on his writing.

Hephzie didn’t miss that. “Improvement on what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Stanford.”

Ford didn’t answer for a minute, but then he admitted slowly, “It’s… just been nice to… to have some assurance that… when we do have children, that… you know… I’ll be good with them.”

Hephzie looked down at Ford and found him looking solemn. She recognized that look. The I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it-but-I-know-I-should look. The one where he doesn’t look at anything in particular and tries to distract his thoughts with an activity or a task, but now that it was brought to the forefront it was pointless. Hephzie sat in the chair next to Ford and kept her hands on his shoulders. “Of course you’ll be good with ‘em. They’ll be your kids.”

Ford sighed tiredly. “I know.”

Just by looking at him, Hephzie could tell that something else was bothering Ford. It wasn’t that long ago that they had talked about what might have been, and while that didn’t bother Hephzie as much as it did, it might still bother Ford. Aside from all of that, there could very well be something else, something Ford was worried about before they even decided to have children. “Is… ya know if there’s somethang on your mind, ya can tell me, right?”

“I know.” Ford said softly and took the time to give her a small smile. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Fordsie.” Hephzie kissed his lips and ran her fingers through his hair. “Comin’ to bed?”

“I’ll be there soon. I’m nearly done.”

“Alright, guess I’ll spoon my pillow instead.” Hephzie joked and left the room.

Ford chuckled, quickly drotted down a few notes so he could go over his work in the morning and properly finish it, and then he hurried to bed to be his wife’s little spoon.

* * *

The card table became too filled to function, so everything was laid out on the floor and everyone sat in pajamas, even the McGuckets, and snacked on bowls of popcorn, pretzels, chipackcerz, sodas, and a big bowl of candy. Clipboards for the players’ character sheets, colorful dice, and notepads also littered the living room, and as sunlight trinkled in from the front door and Everest watched the game from the couch, Ford happily narrated his players though the game. “After your victory against the clan of goblins, you rest at a pub…”

“I’m gonna flirt with the barmaid to get some free drinks!” Stan declared and rolled a 38 sided die; once he understood that this game involved more risk and imagination than math, he started to warm up to it, and though he would never admit it, he had fun playing pretend.

Ford chuckled and looked down at the die. “You’re successful! The barmaid is charmed by your smooth words and strong stature, and slides you a free drink, but unfortunetly your score isn’t high enough to earn everyone else a drink. Your players need to recharge from battle, so everyone needs to pay one gold coin for fuel.”

“Imma get chocolate milk!” Tate cheered as he changed the amount of gold he had in his bag on his character sheet.

“Okay, everyone roll your 12 sided die.” Once all the dice were still, Ford winced at the score and said with a devilish smile, “Your cheerfulness over your victory has caught the attention of your worst, and most annoying, enemy: Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Dang it!” Stan yelled as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

“He’s accompanied by his trusty eagle, perfect for capturing victims, a hot elf, and his head ogre. Seeking revenge for taking down his army of goblins, Probabilitor attacks the pub with…” Ford rolled his dice. “... a math ray! Everyone roll your D-38.”

While Stan rolled a 32 and Tate rolled a 28, Fiddleford rolled a 17 and Hephzie rolled a 2. “What!?” She shrieked, having been earning low numbers the entire game. “Stan, did ya load my dice!?”

“Aw, c’mon, sis,” Stan laughed. “I wouldn’t cheat… okay, but not at a nerd game. It ain’t worth my best tricks.”

“While Goldie and Tate dodged the math ray in time, Hadron and Allona are hit, Allona left weak while Hadron almost made it to safety. The eagle takes advantage and takes them in his talons, following Probabilitor into the sky as the ogre and hot elf ride on the large bird’s back. Goldie, Tate, what do you do?”

“We go after them!” Tate declared.

“What happens if we don’t?” Stan asked.

“Probabilitor will eat their brains. It’s his thing.” Ford answered.

“Fine, guess we’ll go on another quest.” Stan ruffled Tate’s hat, the two paired into a team, and Ford had them set off into the woods for their team members.

“Alright, meanwhile at the campsite,” Ford went on. “Hadron and Allona are tied to a tree while the hot elf readies the brain-cooking pot.”

“Hold on, ain’t there a way we can escape?” Fiddleford asked. “It’s only rope, n’ I got my dagger, remember. If it’s in my belt by my hip…”

“Good ingenuity, let’s give it a try.” Ford cleared his throat and reread the rules to make sure it was fair. “Probabilitor, distracted by picking garnishes for your brains, doesn’t notice that Hadron has a weapon he can use without his hands. Roll your D-12, you have to get a 10 or higher to be successful.”

Fiddleford blew into his fists for good luck and let his D-12 go, but then slapped his forehead and winced at the 8.

“You managed to cut some of the binding holding you and Allona captive, but your dagger falls from your belt and lands on the grass and out of reach. Before Allona can even try to get it back with her foot, Probabilitor returns to do some more annoying dragging about how he’s going to eat you.”

“If I get my eight-year-old character killed over this, Imma lose it.” Fiddleford joked; there was no way he was going to die like this, right? Right?!

“Ugh, if my hands were free I’d break every part of his face.” Hephzie growled.

“Oh ho, Probabilitor is so annoying he has even invoked the wrath of the peaceful druid elf.” Ford chuckled. “Helpless for the time being, it’s up to Goldie and Tate to save them, but first they must travel through the woods and reach the campsite.”

“Okay!” Tate cheered and punched the air, ready to beat up some bad guys.

“You two are getting close to your destination, you can tell by the frequent fairy bites. When suddenly your path is blocked by a huge ogre, armed with an axe!”

“Aw, come on, Boyish Dan, I thought we were cool.” Stan said sarcastically and the whole room laughed.

“‘Halt!’ Dan the Ogre says.” Ford was using a deeper, gritter voice for the ogre, making Hephzie smiled admirably at her husband. “‘You interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the Wizard! If ye wish to pass, first ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the last…’”

“I bonk him over the head with my bat!” Stan interrupted.

“Okay, one, you have a club, not a bat, Stanley,” Ford explained for the uptheenth time. “And second, you can’t…”

“Sure I can! Our team member are gonna be dead soon, we don’t have time for seven stupid quests! So I use nature’s snooze button and bonk him over the head!” Stan argued and shook his dice in his fist.

“Fine, roll your D-38…” The room gasped as Stan rolled a 36. Ford, chuckling with disbelief, said, “You bonk your club on the ogre’s head and it knocks him out cold. He’s not dead, but he won’t be walking for a long time.”

“There’s no cops in the forest.” Stan hissed to Tate. “We take this to our graves.”

The boy actually pushed his hat and bangs back to show Uncle Stan his trusty wink, making the whole room laugh.

“Very well! You are approaching the campsite!” Ford narrated with wiggling fingers. “As Goldie and Tate hide in the bushes, Probabilitor tackles.” Ford cleared his throat and made the wheeziest, annoying voice he could muster, causing Hephzie to snort and cover her mouth to keep from spitting out soda. “‘And now, a little math problem! When I subtract your brains from your skulls, add salt, and divide your team, what’s the remainder?’”

“YOUR BUTT!” Tate cried out.

“‘What?!’” Ford wheezed. “‘My butt isn’t part of this particular equation!’” The whole room laughed loudly and Ford had to wait for everyone to calm down before continuing. “Though your insult may have been funny, your cover is blown. Goldie and Tate now have no choice but to battle Probabilitor for the lives of Hadron and Allona!”

“Yup, we’re dead.” Hephzie said and pulled out a clean character sheet. “Better start creatin’ a new character.”

“Hey! We’ve got this, right squirt?” Stan asked as he wrapped an arm around Tate.

“Yeah!”

“Let the battle begin!” Ford placed two small figures of ogres and said, “The ogres swing first! Roll your D-38s to dodge!” Ford rolled a 13 while Stan rolled a 14. 

“Goldie uses a… Shield of Shielding to, you know, shield Goldie and Tate!” Stan made up.

“Probabilitor casts a reversal spell, and…” Ford rolled a 15. “... is successful. The shield disintegrates. The ogres attack! Now you can choose to attack or…”

“Oh! Giggle time bouncy boots!” Tate yelled out. “To jump over the meanie’s heads!” Both Ford and Tate rolled, but Tate’s was higher.

“The boots work!” Ford said. “Goldie and Tate bounce to safety, missing the axes and clubs by the skin of their noses.”

“Now they use flamey swords… no! SUPER hot flamey swords!” Tate declared, getting really excited. The boy rolled a 21, Stan rolled an 18, and Ford rolled a 2.

“Incredible luck!” Ford gasp. “Your swords are so powerful they destroy the ogres in an instant!” And he swiped up the little figures. “‘Drat you!’ Probabilitor screeches. ‘You’ll never outrun my Ogre-nado!’” And Ford rolled a 30.

“Yes we will!” Tate said and hopped up on his feet, shaking the die hard. “Centaur-taur will swoop in and save Tate and Goldie!” And Tate rolled a 32.

“A what?” Fiddleford chuckled.

“A Centaur-taur.” Tate repeated and showed a drawing he had made last night when thinking of weapons and characters. It was both horrifying and impressive.

“Tate, I am so confused and so proud right now.” Stan said thickly.

“The Centaur-taur dashes just in time and carries Goldie and Tate to the thick of the trees, where the ogre-nado is broken and destroyed. Goldie and Tate rush back to try to free Hadron and Allona, but Probabilitor’s score is still too high to be defeated.” Ford rolls his D-4, D-12, and D-38 to determine which of Probabilitor’s spells or minions to use; the Quest Master’s eyes widened as this specific combination of numbers meant he had to use the most powerful monster is all of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Ford grinned sheepishly, and narrates slowly for suspense, “You think all is well and good, but Probabilitor was saving the worst for last. Just before Goldie and Tate reach their team members, they’re grabbed by a huge claw with three fingers and are faced with a mouth inside of a mouth and a fiery red eye.” And Ford slammed down the biggest statue they had.

Fiddleford and Hephzie gasped. “The Impossi-Beast! I thought they banned this character!” Fiddleford argued.

Ford shrugged. “Sorry, but this is the original 1972 version. They didn’t ban the Impossi-Beast until the second version, released in 1975.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just think of some cool weapons…”

“Ya don’t understand, son.” Fiddleford said as he gripped the boy’s shoulder. “He’s so powerful that he can only be defeated by rolling a perfect 38! If not, then we all lose our characters!”

“Rollin’ a 38?!” Tate gasped. “The odds are…”

“Hey, long odds are what you want when you’re a world-class gambler!” Stan said and took up his D-38. “C’mon, c’mon… Papa needs a new pair of… elves!” And he let go of the D-38.

Tate held onto Stan’s arm as it rolled across the floor. Fiddleford’s knees were bouncing despite being criss-cross. Hephzie had her hands in her dreadlocks. Ford bit his lip, wanting his first quest with the team to be a success. The little blue die looked like it might fall on 1, but at the last second it balanced perfectly on that beautiful 38.

“WHAT?!”

Tate jumped up and down as he cheered and punched the air. “YES! Yes, yes, yes! We won! We won!”

“What do you say, buddy?” Stan asked.

“DEATH BY MUFFINS!”

“Goldie and Tate then throw magical Death Muffins into the Impossi-Beast’s mouth!” Ford narrated. “The monster explodes and Probabilitor is powerless and pathetic as always. But keeping true to his name, he annoyingly disappears into a cloud of math, promising to be back for another journey, but for now Allona and Hardon are free, and Goldie and Tate are upgraded to level 2 and earn twenty pieces of gold.”

“YAY!” Tate quickly scribbled down the changes on his character! “Can we go on another adventure?! Maybe we’ll find a dragon this time! I wanna try to get a Trust Arrow!”

“Unfortunately that’s all I had plan for now.” Ford held his chin and gave it some more thought. “I suppose I could…”

“Not so fast, Sixer, that’s enough nerd-game for me.” Stan stretched his arms over his head. “Ole Goldie over here’s ready for some mindless fun.”

“How ‘bout a movie?” Hephzie asked and looked under the TV for the box of VCR tapes. “We’ve got _The Voyages of Lionclothiclese: Clash of the Genres_.”

“Oo! Put it in!”

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!” Fiddleford said excitedly as his son sat in his lap.

Ford moved up to the couch and petted Everest. After she had set the movie, Hephzie sat next to her husband, leaning against his chest, and they all allowed the old movie to fill the atmosphere and happily distract them from the real world.


	9. Dogs n' Dinos

_**July 18th, 1983** _

  
While Everest loved everyone and was technically the family dog, he had a special bond with Stan.

Maybe it was because he had almost hit the stray pup with his car back in December. Maybe it was because he was the most likely of the trio to give in to the dog’s begging and share some bites of dinner. Maybe it was because he kept a secret stash of toys in his closet and would bring out a new toy when Everest had been a good boy. Maybe it was because their goofball personalities just mixed so well, but there was a reason why Everest slept in Stan’s room nearly every night. There was a reason why Stan tolerated the big Saint Bernard and sometimes let him sit on his lap until Stan was losing feeling in his legs. There was a reason why Stan was the only one who could calm Everest down for a bath and why he cried a little inside whenever the poor dog had to get shots at the vet.

Stan used to ask for a dog when he was a kid (as kids will) but of course Pa squashed that idea quickly with the usual reasons: not a big enough house, not enough money, too much work, Pa’d end up taking care of it, Stan would lose it, poor Snowball would be miserable, etc. It wasn’t until Pa nearly socked his son in the mouth that Stan quit asking, but then a little later he secretly nursed a possum that had been hit by a car back to full health and the Mystery Twins had the perfect associate: Shanklin the Stab-Possum. Now Stan had his own dog who he treated as his #1 responsibility. Ford and Hephzie always tried to help, but Stan usually had the food and water bowls full before they could even get to them. The married couple wasn’t fooled; they knew their tough guy had a soft spot for Everest.

Everest truly fitted into the Pines family in a way no one else could. So many nights the adults would be in rocking chairs on the porch, Everest lying on the first step, and he would suddenly shoot up and bark from sneaky gnomes away. Or they would hear wolves howl in the distance and Everest would pace in front of his domain. Or Everest would growl at something behind a human, enough proof for Ford that the Hide Behind was real.

Everest loved everyone and it showed daily. Every time when Hephzie came home from work he would scamper to her and lick her and let her bet his belly and Everest would always be the first one to greet her home. Ford used to race him but too many bruises taught them to just let Everest keep this victory. Mama spoiled her holiday present and was usually the only one who talked to him in his “baby-voice,” but she blamed her job for that. 

Ford, as hesitant as he was at the beginning about getting a dog, also cared about Everest very much, and Everest cared about Ford. The Saint Bernard loved to be by Ford’s feet in the thinking parlor or keep him company on the couch, careful not to bother his work but he wouldn’t hesitate to lay his big head on Papa’s lap and whine for a scratch behind the ears, a plea Ford was only too happy to comply with.

It should also be noted that the McGucket family loved Everest, too. It was thanks to Everest that Fiddleford and Maddie had some more time to not get Tate a dog. As much as they wanted one, the boy sucked too much energy out of his parents, but the Pines told Tate he could come over and play with Everest whenever he wanted and Maddie and Fiddleford enjoyed petting him and showing some affection whenever they paid a visit. And Everest was always grateful for more attention.

One day when Hephzie was at work and Fiddleford invited Ford over to his house, Stan finished the dishes and turned up the radio when one of his favorite songs turned on. He smiled at Everest as the Saint Bernard lying under the table perked up and No New Rock N’ Roll blasted through the radio.

_Just leave those new records on the shelf,_   
_I'd never listen to 'em by myself._   
_Today's music ain't got the same soul._   
_So no new rock n' roll._

Stan slid on the hardwood with his slippers, pulled on one of his blue Hawaiian button-ups but left it open, and slipped on some sunglasses just because, as he danced with Everest happily by his side. A dog can’t necessarily dance, but he could bark happily and hop around and allow Stan to grab his front paws and do a little two step for a minute or two. Stan laughed and was really grateful no one saw him look like an idiot.

When the song ended Stan got on one knee and petted Everest’s big head. The dog closed his eyes in peace and licked Stan’s hand. “You know something, boy? You’re the best dog in the whole world. No contest.”

Everest licked Stan’s chin and the man chuckled, scratching his dog and giving him a light hug before standing up to resume his share of the chores.

* * *

“Thank you so much for all the help, Fiddleford.” Ford said as he tightened the rope of a camera. Now fully recovered and operational, it felt good to be back on the field and performing a good ole Monster Hunt.

“Hey, I don’t want the roof of my truck t’get torn off or have my son get snatched by some critter.” Fiddleford said as he reread the newspaper article that caught his attention this morning, hense his phone call to the anomaly expert. He had asked for help, might as well be of some assistance. “Any idea what this thang could be?”

“Could be anything,” Ford said as he hopped down from the tree that gave him horrible last-name puns his wife loved to use. Stupid sticky tree full of sap. “Dragon. Giant man-eating butterfly. Oversized cowl. But once the creature grabs some of Stanley’s beef jerky Camera A, B, and C should set off and we’ll discover what’s been tearing rooftops of cars and causing the mysterious disappearances of cows and pigs from the farms.”

“Until then Maddie packed us a lunch.” Fiddleford opened the basket and started to pull things out. “She made sure to make your favorite: ham with Swiss and light mustard.”

“That was very kind of her.” Ford accepted his sandwich and chuckled. “Aw, she cut it into a star.”

“Force of habit.” Fiddleford shrugged, his own sandwich a heart. “Tate now refuses to eat a sandwich if it’s in a normal shape. She’s done stars, hearts, even smiley-faces. Are you okay with a juice box?” He asked, seeing how Maddie had included a picture of sweet tea and two glasses, but also two boxes of apple juice with bendy straws.

“Yes, please.” Ford said, happily accepting the juice box. “Nothing says dangerous anomaly investigation like shaped sandwiches and bendy straws.” He joked and Fiddleford chuckled.

Suddenly a roaring was accompanied by the flashing of three cameras, and the jerky was done. Ford and Fiddleford gasped with a happy high-six and quickly ate their lunch before getting the cameras and racing to the Pines’ shack.

Stan was watching TV with Everest when the door flew open and closed. “It’s in here!” He heard his brother cry out. “We got it! We actually got it!”

“Whatcha two knuckleheads bring home?” Stan called, too comfortable in his seat and he had no intention of disturbing Everest any time, who had sat up and listened, as well.

Fiddleford and Ford stepped into his lien of vision, covered in sticky sap and holding cameras. “Pictures of a dangerous creature that’s been alluding identity, until now.” Ford answered. Everest ran over and Ford happily freed a hand to pet him. “Hello, my boy.”

Everest took the time to let Fiddleford pet him before going to the door and sniffing. Guessing someone wanted outside, Fiddleford handed Ford his camera and headed for the exit. “I gotcha, Everest…”

“Not so fast, Twerp.” Stan said firmly and stood. “If Everest’s going outside someone needs to have him on a leesh and be with him.”

“Wait, really?” Fiddleford asked with a small smile and raised eyebrow. “Don’t you think he needs fresh air?”

“Course I do,” Stan growled, as if his friend was suggesting he didn’t know what was best for his dog. “But it’s not safe for Everest out there by himself. There’s no fense and way too many freaky monsters that would love to have him for dinner.”

“Daw, look Ford, he’s overprotective.” Fiddleford chuckled and rolled his eyes. “But seriously Stanley, he’s a grown dog. He’s smart enough not to go wanderin’ around, n’ it’s only to let him use the bathroom.”

“Hey, I don’t tell you how to raise your little squirt, do I?” Stan snapped.

Fiddleford narrowed his eyes. “Ya suggestin’ my son’s on the same level as a dog?”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Ford stepped in between them. “Let’s just go develop this film so we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Fine, whatever ya say.” Fiddleford groaned as he walked away from Stan with his nose in the air. That didn’t keep Stan from giving his friend a dirty look from behind.

The process of developing the film took longer than first anticipated and proved to be mostly a one-man job, so Fiddleford excused himself for a glass of water and left Ford in the dark thinking parlor to develop the film. In his element, the scientist let the photo from Camera B dry and he saw a wing slowly appear before his eyes.

“Wait a minute,” Ford peered at the picture and an idea came to mind that made him excited and stutter slightly. “No… no way… it’s not poss- oh, who am I kidding? This is Gravity Falls for Moses’ sake.” Ford hurried to Camera C, which should have the creature in full-view, and he gasped at what he saw.

Fiddleford was leaving the kitchen when he saw Everest whining at the door. The dog then looked at the human with sad eyes that bended Fiddleford to his will. “Oh, poor guy. Stan doesn’t letcha out enough, does he?” He opened the door and Everest ran outside. Fiddleford smiled and stood on the porch with his water in hand. “There, see? Perfectly safe. Someone’s dinner, oh Lord.”

But then he noticed Everest’s growling. The dog had immediately been on the defense about something. Fiddleford squinted his eyes ahead to see what it might be, but then something huge dove for the dog and snatched him up quicker than a woman at a shoe sale. Fiddleford dropped his glass of water on the porch with a shatter.

“Fiddleford!” Ford yelled and ran out to him. “You won’t believe this! The creature is…”

The thief flew off with Everest howling for help in his claws. Ford’s jaw dropped as he saw a pterodactyl take off into the woods with his dog.

“SWEET LORD!”

Ford and Fiddleford turned in horror to find Stan at the doorway, pale and trembling. Fiddleford felt sick to his stomach as one of the toughest guys he ever knew was watching his dog disappear into the woods. 

“EVEREST!” Stan yelled and pushed past the men for the car. “EVEREST! DON’T WORRY! C’MON, LET’S MOVE!”

Ford and Fiddleford quickly got into the Stanmobile and Stan stepped on the gas hard to chase the flying dino.

“What THE HELL?!” Stan hollered. “Was that a dino that took my dog?!”

“It couldn’t have been anything else, but how is it possible?” Ford marveled.

“And more importantly, how did it get its claws on Everest!?” Stan demanded. “What, did it fly into the house or some shit?”

“Uh, would ya believe that?” Fiddleford asked timidly. When Stan looked back at him with a scary facial expression that probably gave the engineer nightmares, he swallowed and chuckled nervously, “I-I-I-I’d take that as a no.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Stan shouted. “I asked one thing from you, McSuckit, and you left Everest outside to get eaten by a flying demon from the Jurassic Period?!”

“Actually, various Pterosaurs are from the late Triassic Period as well as the Jurassic…”

“IMMA BREAK YOUR NECK, C’MERE!” The car swerved dangerously as Stan reached into the backseat to try to kill Fiddleford and Ford had to take the wheel.

“Stanley, we can’t save Everest if we crash into a tree!” Ford yelled and pulled his brother back up front. “I’m angry with Fiddleford, too, but right now Everest needs us, so please focus.”

Stan growled in bubbling anger, but the idea of losing a family member made him focus on his target. Thankfully Everest was howling and making tons of noise, making a trail as distinct as red yarn to follow. They sped down an old dirt road and stopped when they came up to an abandoned church. The three men quickly exited the car and ran inside the old building. It was simple enough, not enough dust to say it had been left alone for more than ten years, but a huge gaping hole in the middle of the worship room echoed Everest’s growls and howls.

“Hephzie said they relocated their worship a little before we came to town because the abandoned mines created too many earthquakes and sinkholes.” Ford said as he rummaged through his trenchcoat. “The mines would be the perfect hideout for any prehistoric organisms.” The scientist pulled out his grappling hook, attached it to the chandelier on the roof, and said, “Well, everyone into the hole.”

With Ford leading the way, Stan closely behind him, and Fiddleford bringing in the rear, they climbed down the rope. Below them, among the mine tracks and opened caves, prehistoric plants and mushrooms bloomed. Ford hopped down and pulled out his Journal 3 to quickly drot down some notes and some rough sketches to better fill later. Fiddleford marveled with endless wonder, this discovery being his favorite by far. “Sweet Lord, this is incredible!” He gasped and held his head with a grin.

“I still don’t understand how this is even possible.” Ford closed his journal and pocketed it. “I suppose it does align with Gravity Falls’ weirdness, but there must be some logical explanation to all of this…”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Stan said as he elbowed Ford aside. “Less talky, more findy. Let’s just grab Everest and then get the hell outta here.”

“Right, of course.” Ford followed his brother with Fiddleford behind him into the biggest tunnel, the tunnel a pterodactyl could fit through. 

They were soon submerged into darkness, but Ford pulled out a flashlight from his coat and used it to light their way. The three men, one worried, one aware, and one guilty, were then soon faced with a t-rex and yelled with horror, but then relaxed slightly to notice it was frozen. Well, not frozen, but stuck inside a large wad of tree sap.

“Holy Moses!” Ford yelled and they ventured onward to find more dinosaurs. Species like Triceratops, Stegosaurus, Apatosaurus and even a Velociraptor were firmly trapped inside tree sap, the broken cage of the pterodactyl proof that the sap was weakening. “Of course! Tree sap! That’s how they survived for 65 million years! And look! The summer’s heat has been melting them loose. It must happen every year until winter comes and hardens the sap again, and this just happened to be the year one of them managed to free itself.”

“That’s great and all, but where’s Everest?” Stan asked.

Right on cue, a loud roar and some growling left one of the tunnels. The trio ran after the sound and came across a huge cavern with even more plants and even a huge nest on the other side of some unstable railroad tracks. In the nest, next to a large egg, Everest was standing strong against the dino, growling and baring sharp teeth with the fur on his neck sticking out, his muzzle drooling with rage. The pterodactyl was flying over him, claws sharp and ready to attack, but Everest guaranteed damage and so the pterodactyl screeched and flew elsewhere to give the dog a chance to calm down.

“Everest!” Stan called out and started to run towards the Saint Bernard.

“Stanley!” Ford called.

“Are ya crazy?!” Fiddleford asked, but Stan ignored them both and ran as fast as he could across the tracks and into the nest.

“Everest!” Stan got on one knee and the dog ran into his arms, licking his face and hands and barking with joy. “That’s my boy, that’s my boy! You done good, good dog! Taught that winged weirdo a lesson, huh?”

Ford and Fiddleford joined the happy reunion and were unhinged by the bones that littered the nest. Ford petted Everest and whispered, “Thank goodness you’re okay, boy, but we…”

The pterodactyl was back; it dove towards Fiddleford, still standing on the tracks, but Everest wiggled free of Stan’s arms and growled at the flying dino in front of Fiddleford, protecting him. The pterodactyl barely missed the pair and made them fall off the tracks and down into the forest of prehistoric plants.

“Fiddleford!” Ford cried out.

“Everest!” Stan yelled.

Behind them, the big egg cracked and fell over. The Pines twins watched as a baby pterodactyl with big eyes and a cute little peep crawled out of its shell and looked at the humans.

“Aw,” Ford let slip.

“Well welcome to the world, little guy…” And then Stan was eaten by the baby.

Okay, maybe not eaten, but it did bite Stan and Stan did punch it in the face with his body in its beak and the two wrestled while Ford yelled in shock and tried to pry the dino’s mouth open.

Meanwhile, Fiddleford’s face was licked by a smooth tongue and he opened his eyes. He had landed on some cushy mushrooms before landing in the mud with Everest by his side. He readjusted his glasses and petted Everest. “Good boy, now let’s find a way outta… AGH!”

Fiddleford picked up the large dog with ease thanks to adrenaline and ran under a mushroom for cover as the pterodactyl dove for its dinner, but missed. Fiddleford was starting to panic now, hyperventilating and his anxiety getting out of hand. Everest, having quite a bit of experience with this knew what to do. He gently rested his head on Fiddleford’s lap, sitting beside him, and gently licked his fingers to help ground him. 

The engineer looked down at Everest and smiled when he realized what the dog was doing. He petted his soft head and muttered, “S’no wonder Stan loves ya so much. Everyone does. Look, I… I didn’t mean to cause ya harm, but… but I have a bad habit of doin’ that. Ya know? Hurtin’ people I don’t mean to.” Fiddleford sighed tiredly and leaned against the wall of his little cave. “I know they say they forgave me, but it doesn’t feel like anythang I do is enough, ya know? I messed up real bad, n’ I can’t take it back, n’ it feels like Stan doesn’t trust me like he used to. N’ after this, he definitely won’t. I dunno what t’do. Reckon at least ya forgive me for lettin’ ya get taken by a pterodactyl?”

Everest licked his cheek and Fiddleford chuckled and scratched under his chin. Everest slowly crawled on Fiddleford’s lap, crushing him slightly, but the man didn’t mind. “Thanks, feller. You’re quite the lap dog, huh?” The dino outside roared again, and Fiddleford held Everest protectively in his arms on instinct. Everest growled in his throat, and Fiddleford took in a deep breath. “I cannot believe Imma ‘bout t’do this.”

Meanwhile, up at the nest, Ford managed to pry the baby pterodactyl mouth open enough so Stan could escape, his white t-shirt in shreds and his ribs scraped, but otherwise okay. “Shit, and I thought I’d have to eat my way out of a dino.”

“That’s disgusting.” Ford commented and they ran across the tracks as fast as they could. Thankfully the baby couldn’t fly yet, so it pouted over losing dinner and chewed on some bones to entertain itself.

“So how do we save Everest?”

“And Fiddleford.”

“Meh.”

“Stanley…”

“Kidding, kidding, that was a joke, Poindexter.” Stan shook his head with his hands in surrender. 

“Well, we can use my grappling hook to get down there and find them…”

“Wait… what is that?” Stan shielded his eyes from the sun to look up clearly. He and Ford gasped as the pterodactyl flew over them, struggling in the air, with Fiddleford and Everest riding its neck; with one hand holding the dog’s collar, Fiddleford used his free fist to punch the pterodactyl in the face and Everest bit at it. 

The Pines twins cheered for their family as Fiddleford cried out, “From Hell’s heart I stab at thee!” And gave one last powerful punch to the forehead, making the dino dive and Fiddleford grabbed Everest and leaped onto the edge as the pterodactyl fell to the plants below. The man and the big dog barely made it, but Stan and Ford grabbed Fiddleford by the forearms and helped pull them up.

“Thank goodness you two are okay!” Ford gasped.

“That was real impressive, twerp.” Stan sneered at Fiddleford.

The engineer blushed and shrugged. “I dunno, I just did what I had t’do for… LOOK OUT!” The pterodactyl was back, nearly biting Ford, and they ran for their lives.

Everest led the way back out of the caves and the four were soon back where they started. Ford shot his grappling hook up at the air and yelled, “GRAB HOLD OF ME!”

Stan grabbed Everest and then wrapped an arm around Ford’s neck, Ford’s other arm around his brother. Fiddleford grabbed Ford around his waist, and just at the last second, he shot them up into the air and away from the dino’s teeth. The three men yelled in terror as they were launched back up into church and into safety. Stan landed in a pew, his arms still around Everest, as he tried to steady his fast-beating heart. Ford landed on his feet like a graceful cat and Fiddleford landed on his face.

“Is everyone okay?” Ford asked as he pocketed his grappling hook.

“Yeah, I reckon so.” Fiddleford said as he stood up and dusted himself off.

Everest licked Stan’s face in comfort and the tough guy smiled at his dog and scratched him behind the ear. “Yeah, we’re just fine.”

“Hey, Stanley,” Fiddleford said as Stan and Everest climbed out of the broken pew. “I’m really sorry ‘bout all this, I didn’t mean for that t’happen…”

“Eh, no need for all that sap, Fidds.” Stan shrugged. “Trust me, I know how it goes. I’ve made my fair share of dumb mistakes. Plus you were willing to punch a freaky dino in the face for Everest here. That was pretty cool of you.”

Fiddleford was blushing. “Yeah, well… can’t have one of my closest friends mad at me, can I?”

Stan chuckled and took his hand to shake it. Fiddleford smiled; how in the world did he end up with such an understanding friend like Stanley Pines? Everest rubbed his big head against Fiddleford’s leg and so he got on one knee to give the Saint Bernard some love.

“And it looks like Everest forgave you, too, so I can’t be too mad, I guess.” Stan added with a laugh.

“On another note,” Ford said, taking off his torn trenchcoat. “We should plan to come here and seal the exit so no more prehistoric life forms can escape and steal pets or roofs of vehicles. Whoa, hey, look!” He pulled out a sharp tooth from the ruins of his coat.

“A real pterodactyl tooth!” Fiddleford gasped. “That’s amazin’! No one’ll believe that’s the real deal!”

“Bet we could make a fortune off of it.” Stan said as he led the way back to the Stanmobile.

“If we ever go bankrupt, I’ll think about it.” Ford said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.


	10. Suffocating Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout-out to factual-fantasy over at tumblr.   
> The beginning of this chapter was inspired by this comic: https://factual-fantasy.tumblr.com/post/185090332189/sips-from-water-bottle-so-hows-your-day

_**November 19th, 1971** _

  
_Just do it._

His tired eyes were down shamefully on his six-fingered hand. Six. There were always six, and always will be six. Unless…

_It won’t hurt for very long._

The ghosts of tears still lingered on his face, behind his glasses, though hard to detect. His hair was frazzled and extra fluffy from grabbing it so much, nearly pulling it free from his scalp as he tried to free himself from his own cruel mind. He was trembling.

_It can’t be **that** bad._

His eyes finally left his hand. They traveled to the knife on the kitchen counter, highlighted by the sunlight coming in from the window. His knees buckled and his arms were quivering. He tried to breathe, but something was wrong. He was wrong. This was his chance to fix it.

_It would be over with before you know it._

Ma was at the store. Pa was out of town. Stanley was serving detention. Hephzibah was at home. Maybe if he was quick about it. Maybe if he could control himself long enough to steady his hand. Maybe if he didn’t make a mess…

_It will only hurt a little._

He was already hurting, what would a little bit more pain be? He was sick. He was tired. He was drained and empty and broke. Something was wrong with him. He could fix it.

**_Just do it._ **

Stanford reached a deformed hand for the knife, ignoring how badly he was shaking. His eyes were growing misty again.

_Don’t you want to be **normal**?_

Stanford withdrew his hand and held his fist close to his chest, his other by his clenched teeth as tears, once again, poured from his eyes and dripped down either side of his face. “N-No! No… I can’t… I can’t do it…”

How could he do it? How could he even think of doing it? How could a trip for a glass of water go so badly? Stanford covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, but then looked back down at his birth-defect. He felt himself slowly sink back into a melancholy mindscape, one filled with self-hatred and loathing. He didn’t have the strength to pull himself from it.

A knock came at the door. Stanford almost yelled, but he managed to bite his tongue in time and he only jumped. He wiped his eyes dry and scrubbed the tears stains off his face as he left the dining-living-kitchen area for the door. He opened it with a brave face and was surprised to find Hephzibah there, smiling with her crutches and her right arm behind her back, her left arm in a cast and holding a crutch to keep it from falling. Despite balancing and struggling on multitasking with a broken arm, a broken leg, and a few broken ribs, her smile was radiant when she saw Stanford.

“Hephzibah!” He gasped and smiled at her. “What are you doing here, you should be resting.”

“I can rest here just as easy as anywhere else.” Hephzibah insisted and peered over his shoulder. “You’ve got the place to yourself, right?” When Stanford nodded, the dark-skinned teenager smiled romantically, a mixture of hopefulness and mischief on her face, and asked quietly, “So do I get a kiss?”

Stanford smiled, truly smiled, and nodded. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and that feeling in his chest was back; that roar of a triumphant lion, his spirit doing a backflip, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t think it would ever go away. Stanford held his hands out to her and said, “Here, let me help you…”

“Ya can help by takin’ these.” Hephzibah said and finally pulled her hiding arm out from behind her back, revealing a bag of jelly beans.

“Hephzibah!” Stanford grinned and accepted the gift. “Thank you! What’s the occasion?”

“What, a gal can’t do somethang nice for the guy she cares ‘bout?” Hephzibah chuckled as she limped inside.

Stanford shrugged with a smile as he closed the door behind him. “I suppose. I just wish I had something to give you.”

“Nah, just bein’ with ya is enough, Fordsie.” Hephzibah insisted.

Stanford’s cheeks were a little red over those words. He went into his room to put the jellybeans under his pillow for later. “Well, Ma will be back relatively soon. We could watch TV if you want.”

“Perfect.” Hephzibah said and sat on the couch as she laid her crutches down by the floor, but then as she sat up she winced and held her chest. “Ugh.”

“Are you alright?” Stanford was sitting next to her in an instant, ready to help.

Hephzibah chuckled and slowly sat up and leaned back, breathing and smiling. “M’okay, forgot my ribs are still healin’. Doesn’t hurt as bad as they used to. Like havin’ a big bruise.”

Stanford nodded, understanding, and he turned on the TV. He flicked through channels as the two aimlessly chatted for a few minutes. Being best friends before dating has its perks, like there was no pressure to have a conversation; it just happened so naturally. When Stanford finally found something watchable, an enjoyable cooking show taught by science called Great Meals, they fell into silence as they watched how to properly roast a duck without drying out the bird.

A minute or so into the program, Hephzibah touched Stanford’s left hand, the one on her side, and held it gently on the couch. Stanford’s face felt hot again and he looked down at their hold. Hephzibah watched him and was worried for a moment that she made him uncomfortable, but he smiled like a dork at her and she smiled back and squeezed his hand before they both watched the show.

At one point, Hephzibah slowly laid her head on Stanford’s left shoulder. He was at first worried that it might affect her ribs, but she appeared fine and in no pain, so he let go of her hand only to wrap his left arm around her shoulders and hold her and then he took her right hand again with his own right. Hephzibah smiled, lovestruck, and kissed the hand she was holding, her eyes still on the TV.

Stanford was frozen at that. They had kissed before, sure, and held hands before, yeah, but she had never kissed his hand before. It shouldn’t surprise him, they were a couple and couples sometimes kiss each other’s hands, but why on Earth would someone want to kiss his hand? Stanford looked down to find Hephzibah smiling, content and happy. Stanford pressed his lips together.

The back door opened. Hephzibah jumped off of Stanford’s shoulder and they let go of their hands. Stanford cleared his throat, but then was worried to find Hephzibah wincing, the jump disturbing her healing ribs a little, but she recovered quickly to try to hide it from whoever was home.

“Stanford, honey, can you help me with the groceries?” Ma called as she emerged from the hallway and entered the living space. “I… oh! Hephzibah! What brings you here? Feeling well?”

“Yeah, thanks Mrs. Pines, just hanging out if that’s okay.” Hephzibah answered as she stood up with her crutches. “I can help.”

“Oh, no thank you, but you sit and relax.” Ma said softly as she put some bags on the table. “And you know you’re welcome here any time, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Pines.” Hephzibah snuck a wink to Stanford as he left to help unload groceries.

It took a lot of self control to hide his blushing.

* * *

Thankfully, at the end of February, they didn’t have to hide their relationship anymore. Their fears were unfounded and once the truth was out things actually turned out great. By this point, Hephzibah had fully recovered from her hit-and-run (they had hit her and sped away) and now the couple were more free than ever.

It was mid-March, a window open to let in the warm early-Spring air, and Stanford and Hephzibah were sitting on the couch and watching TV again. Stanford sat normally, but his girlfriend leaned against him on his left side and he had his arm wrapped over her, like a child holding a stuffed toy, and they were holding hands, comfortable as they talked over the sounds of the show.

“So, if they never had an old Jersey, why do we call it New Jersey?”

“I think it’s because there is a little British island named Jersey.”

“So, what? Is there an island named York, too?”

“No, I… Well, maybe, but that’s not why they named it…”

The door opened, and this time the couple comfortably stayed put. Ma called into the flat, “I’m home, and guess who I brought?”

Hephzibah and Stanford looked over the back of the couch and saw Ma walking into the room with her grandson in her arms, smiling and cooing happily. “Alex!” Hephzibah cheered and held out her arms for him. “Hi! How’s my wittle buddy, huh?”

“He’s very well,” Ma said as she handed the giggling five-month-old to the teenager with dreadlocks. “He’s staying with us tonight since Shermie and Daisy both have work.”

“Oh boy, won’t Stanley be happy to hear that.” Stanford said as he gave Alex his hand and the baby held his finger. “As am I.” He added and rubbed the baby’s little hand.

“Well, I have some phone calls to make. Can you two watch him for a while?” Ma asked as she plopped a baby-bag down by the couch.

“Sure!” Hephzibah said and sat Alex on her lap, her knees up, so the baby could lean back on her legs. “We have fun together, don’t we, Lil’Lex?” She cooed. “Who’s your favorite auntie? Who is? Who is?”

Stanford chuckled and looked up at his mother. “We’ll be more than fine.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the next room if you need me. He might need to eat soon, but you two know what to do.” And she was gone.

Stanford pleasantly watched his girlfriend coo and play with Alex, who was perfectly content just to “talk” with Hephzibah. While the baby cooed and smiled and giggled, Hephzibah talked to him like he understood every word. She was always good with children, like Stanley, but her volunteer hours at the nursery in the hospital certainly helped with caring for infants. Stanford was convinced that he wasn’t good with kids at all, but Hephzibah was confident in his abilities to bond with younger humans and he supposed if he ended up failing miserably, Hephzibah was great enough for them both.

Stanford used his six-fingers to tickle under Alex’s chin and he laughed loudly, his weak spot detected. The teenager smiled and his girlfriend looked at them lovingly as Stanford leaned forward, his chin resting on Hephzibah’s shoulder, and tickled the baby, who squirmed and laughed joyfully in Hephzibah’s lap. She laughed a little, trying not to steal Alex’s spotlight, but Stanford listened to her laugh happily and he would have done anything to keep her laughing forever.

Alex looked short of breath so Stanford ceased his tickling and let the baby breathe. Alex huffed and puffed, a huge toothless smile on his little chubby face, and he reached both hands for Stanford’s hand. The teenagers watched as the baby held the polydactyl hand with both of his tiny ones and just smiled at them, enjoying holding his uncle’s hand and not caring about how many fingers he had. Stanford was completely shaken and Hephzibah saw how his eyes became glossy.

“Aw, honey,” She whispered and kissed his cheek. Stanford was about to respond, but Alex had let him go and waved an arm at them as he giggled. They were a little confused, but then Hephzibah got an idea. She gently held Stanford by his cleft chin and kissed his cheek, and again Alex made a small screech, still smiling, and waved his arm. He was jealous.

Stanford and Hephzibah both laughed and Hephzibah held Alex in her arms, closer to give him a kiss on the cheek, and asked, “Better, baby?” She kissed him again and Alex giggled, pleased.

Stanford, playing along, shook a finger and said, “No, no, no, that’s my girlfriend.” And he kissed Hephzibah’s cheek.

Alex waved his arm, trying to imitate his uncle’s previous finger-shaking, and Alex pulled Hephzibah by the neck just enough to kiss her cheek. Hephzibah laughed and said, “Say ‘my girl’, Alex. Say ‘my girl’.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Stanford said, shaking his finger and making his voice low, causing both Hephzibah and Alex to laugh, and he kissed his girlfriend’s cheek again. “My girl.”

Alex waved his arm and kissed Hephzibah again. The pattern went on for a long time until Hephzibah said, “Boys, boys, we all know who’s my favorite: Stanley.”

Stanford snorted, caught off-guard, and laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. Hephzibah kissed him on the lips for being a good sport and a few minutes into playing peek-a-boo, Alex was a little bit fussy. Not really wailing or crying, but he wasn’t happy. “Uh, oh. Someone’s hungie, huh?” Hephzibah cooed and rubbed his back as she sat up.

“Should I fix it or would you prefer to?” Stanford asked, stretching his arms over his head.

“I burn everything, sweetheart.”

“It’s _milk_.”

“I know.” Hephzibah rolled her eyes at her own incapability. “I’ll find a way to burn it, trust me.”

“Alright,” Stanford kissed her cheek one last time and got up to fix Alex’s bottle. It only took a minute or two and he found it was one of the few baby-things he could do correctly that was actually practical and helpful, so he found he didn’t mind assisting to feed his nephew. As he worked, he could hear his girlfriend mutter to the baby and he smiled at himself. When he was finished and walked back to the couch, he could pick up Hephzibah’s words.

“You is smart, you is kind, you is important.” She cooed and then said again slowly so the baby could follow, but all he did was watch her. “You is smart, you is kind, you is important.” Hephzibah said it with a rhythm to it, it was almost like a lullaby or a poem.

Stanford sat back next to her and asked, “You do know the correct grammar is ‘are smart’, ‘are kind’, and ‘are important’, right?”

Hephzibah’s face turned red when she knew her boyfriend heard her. “Yeah, but that’s not how Grandpa used to say it to me. ‘Sides, it sticks more in your brain that way.”

Stanford smiled. “That makes sense. Your grandfather used to say that to you?” He offered the bottle to Hephzibah to take, but Alex was whining and hungry now, so Stanford put the bottle in his mouth and held it for him, leaning towards Hephzibah again and pleased to do so.

“Yeah, all the time. Must’ve started when I first came home with ‘em. Still says it sometimes.” Hephzibah shrugged. 

“It was very wise of him to instill those habits and ideas at an early age. And… he was right, you know.” Stanford added, unsure of how to properly word the compliment, but hopefully she understood what he was trying to deliver.

“Aw,” Hephzibah kissed his cheek, and Alex was too busy eating to care. “Thanks, sweetheart. N’ yeah, he said he didn’t ever want me to doubt it.”

“And did it work?” Stanford asked gently.

“I think so.” Hephzibah said, her eyes on Alex. “We all have moments - or days or weeks or months - where we doubt ourselves, but I figured that if someone as amazin’ as Grandpa thinks I’m smart n’ kind n’ important, than it must be true, right? N’ then when I start to wonder if he’s wrong, I remember ya n’ Stan n’ remember how incredible n’ wonderful y’all are, n’ then I’m convinced that if y’all think m’worth keepin’ ‘round, it’s gotta be true.”

Stanford smiled softly at that. He pulled the bottle from Alex so he wouldn’t drink too much at once and he used his free hand to rub Hephzibah’s back. “Well, for the record, I’ve always believed you to be very intelligent, very loving, and extremely important to me.”

Hephzie returned the smile and the compliment. “I’ve always felt the same way. Even as kids, sure I didn’t love ya like I do now, but I’ve always thought ya were really smart n’ kind n’ important, n’ that won’t ever change.”

They both kissed their partner’s lips and were then interrupted by a giggling baby. They smiled and kissed again, this time with a louder noise and more vocals, and Alex just laughed. Stanford gave him his bottle and Hephzibah rubbed his fuzzy little head with love.

* * *

He was alone. No one would see him. No one would care. It would be one less issue to worry about. Maybe then things would finally work out. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start. The knife was on his nightstand. Ma had just left to visit Sherman. Hephzibah was still at work. If he was quick about it, if he could control himself long enough to steady his hand, if he didn’t make a mess...

Stanford was ready this time. Stanley’s old first aid kit was under the bunk bed, by his socked feet. A lit candle was the only source of light in the room, besides the window that displayed a gray, rainy day. Stanford had gathered everything he needed when he began to lose his nerve. The voices were getting louder and more demanding that he make a choice.

_Just do it! It won’t hurt for very long! It can’t be **that** bad! It would be over with before you know it! It will only hurt a little! **Just do it! Don’t you want to be normal?!**_

Stanford took in a deep breath and grabbed the knife. He held his right hand in front of him. He would have to be quick about it. Quick and careful. He breathed deeply and braced himself as he traced the blade with his hand, not quite cutting any layers of skin yet, just imagining a line to cut. The task before him clear, Stanford placed the knife between his last two fingers, ready to be rid of his deformity.

A soft knock was accompanied by the door opening. “Hey, Fordsie, I just…” Hephzibah was frozen with fear, as was Stanford.

Hephzibah had just met Mrs. Pines outside the shop and she invited Hephzibah to go inside and spend some time with Stanford, thanking the young woman for always being there and Hephzibah returned the thanks to the mother for always being so supportive. She was looking forward to surprising Stanford, having got off work early on such a slow day, but now found herself terrified that if she made a wrong move or did something wrong, her boyfriend could be severely hurt.

Stanford, meanwhile, was shaking horribly. Guilt and shame overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe that he had been caught. Immediately his mind cleared and he knew what he was about to do was wrong, but he didn’t have the strength to put down the knife or lower his opposite hand. He just stared at Hephzibah’s horrified expression and noticed how she paled and trembled at his doorway. And it broke his heart to know he caused the woman who had been so cheerful mere moments ago to be so distraught.

Hephzibah closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, swallowed, and opened her eyes and stepped into the room. She closed the door behind her. “Stanford, give me the knife, please.” She requested in such a monotone voice, so calm yet stern yet not quite angry, that Stanford found it easy to relinquish the sharp object and hold it out to her. Hephzibah gently took it by the handle and had the sudden urge to destroy it beyond repair, but she settled for putting it up on a trophy shelf by the doorway.

Stanford held his hands close to his chest and quivered in shame. What had he done? What had he almost done? How could he? He had come so damn close, too. He might have stopped at the first hint of pain, maybe not. Who knows? Thank God no one had to find out today.

Hephzibah, a little more free to show her emotions, sighed with relief and then knelt before him and the bunk bed. “What happened, lemme see your hands, are ya hurt?” She asked in a shaking voice.

Stanford let her take his hands. “N-No. I’m fine.”

Hephzibah tenderly held and looked over his hands for any sign of damage or pain. Sure that her boyfriend was safe and unharmed, Hephzibah had no idea what to do now. She wanted to sob her heart out, to scream and scold, to demand answers, to beg him to never do that again, but all she could do bite her lip and moan, “Stanford… why?”

Stanford swallowed to try to get rid of the knot in his throat. “Hephzibah, I’m… I’m sorry. I never intended to hurt you like this.”

“Hurt me?” Hephzibah repeated and looked up at him. Her beautiful brown eyes were wavering in fear. “Sweetheart, you were almost hurt. I don’t give a damn ‘bout me, but ya… you’re my entire world. If anythang ever happened to ya…” And she choked.

Stanford was both a tad bewildered to hear anyone say this about him, but then he remembered who was saying it and he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. “I… I only wanted to be normal. I thought that if I could just fix this one problem, at least it would be one less thing to worry about.” Stanford muttered to the carpet.

Hephzibah blinked hard. She could cry later, alone in her room. Not here, not now. Stanford didn’t need this. He needed something else. He needed her. “Stanford, baby, why on Earth would ya wanna be that?” She chuckled warmly. “No one’s normal. I’m not. If I were normal I’d have a nuclear family. My folks aren’t normal; Grandpa’s too wise to be normal n’ Grandma thought our refrigerator was a polar bear ‘bout to eat her last week.”

Stanford snorted at that. He knew it wasn’t funny, but Hephzibah’s delivery made him smile a little bit.

“N’ your fingers aren’t a problem.” Hephzibah added, her eyes lingering on her boyfriend’s hands. “Don’t take this to mean I had a weird hand-fetish or anythang like that, but I love your hands. Ya use ‘em to make mine warmer n’ to hold me when I feel alone, not to mention play piano well n’ make beautiful shadow puppets.” The woman with dreadlocks looked up at Stanford. “But aside from all that, I love you, Stanford Pines, which means I love every part of you.”

Hephzibah closed her eyes and kissed one of his knuckles, the last one on his right hand, and she slowly kissed each finger deeply, all twelve of them, showing every part of Stanford love in his darkest hour. She poured her heart and soul out onto him and prayed that it would help him, even if only a little bit. 

When Hephzibah was finished and looked up at him, Stanford was smiling at her tiredly and lovingly, like she was a goddess or an angel sent from Heaven above. “Thank you, Hephzibah. I love you so much.” He bent down, cupped her cheek, and kissed her lips.

Hephzibah closed her eyes and reminisced on the kiss. Things were better, gradually getting better, and she hoped she could help Stanford get where he needed to be in time. “Are ya sure you’re okay?” She asked.

Stanford nodded with a soft smile. “Yeah. Yes, I’m alright now.” And Hephzibah believed him.

“Okay. Do ya wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Stanford’s smile dropped and he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“That’s okay.” Hephzibah assured him and stood up, her knees aching a little. “We’ve got each other for the rest of the day. Whatcha wanna do?”

Stanford gave it some thought, but then he yawned into his hand and blinked his watery eyes. “Honestly, my dear, I’m very tired.”

Hephzibah nodded; with the rain and everything he had been through today, he was due for a nap or just some relaxation. “Okay, I can go…”

“No.” Stanford stood and swallowed, looking a little alarmed at the idea of her leaving, but he composed himself and relaxed. “I would prefer if you stayed. Please.”

“Okay,” Hephzibah smiled and took his hand. “I’ll stay.”

Stanford smiled, then he kissed the back of her hand and let her go. Hephzibah watched him climb up to the top bunk to get in his bed. He pulled the covers down to the foot and crawled across the bed, lying comfortably with his head propped up with his elbow on the mattress. He saw the slight confusion on his girlfriend’s face and he smiled timidly and patted the spot next to him, the exposed side of the bed.

Hephzibah grinned and unbuttoned her pink waitress uniform to reveal a black tank-top and she slipped off her rain boots, leaving her clothes and purse on the floor. She climbed up to the top bunk and crawled to lie next to her boyfriend. It was a little snug on the twin-sized bed, but it was about the same as the couch and they were both comfortable. Stanford smiled as she lied next to him and looked at him with shining eyes. He pulled the covers over them and Hephzibah curled up to his chest, holding his button-up and nuzzling her face in his chest, like a sleepy little bunny. Stanford wrapped both arms around her and held her, smelling her sweet hair and feeling her heartbeat. He couldn’t believe how much better he felt now compared to how he left fifteen minutes ago.

Stanford kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Hephzibah.”

“I love you, too, Stanford.” She looked up at him, kissed his lips, and they soon fell asleep for a nap.

* * *

Someone cleared their throat. Hephzibah brushed it off and was asleep again. But then someone obnoxiously cleared their throat again. She lifted her head up from Stanford’s chest and he snorted awake, his glasses crooked and his hair a mess. Hephzibah smiled and ran a hand through his hair. He smiled down at her lovingly. That annoying someone cleared their throat again and Stanford paled three sheets.

Hephzibah turned to see the door and found Mr. Pines standing at the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. His jawline was tight and even though his eyes were hidden by his glasses, he looked furious. Hephzibah’s heart sped up with anger, furious at him for kicking Stanley out and for being such an abusive parent to his sons, but before anyone could save anything, Mrs. Pines appeared and smiled.

“Aw, Fil, leave ‘em be.” She said and shooed her husband out of the bedroom.

“You’re really gonna let ‘em...”

“They’re only restin’, leave ‘em alone.” And the door was closed.

Hephzibah turned back to Stanford and found him struck with fear. She smiled pitifully and brushed his cheek with her knuckles before cupping his face and combing his brown hair. Stanford smiled at her and hugged her, relieved to have her here with him.


	11. Lover's Pride

**_August 8th, 1983_ **

Ford looked up at the clock as he poured two glasses of water. It wasn’t uncommon for his wife to come home late if an emergency came up and she had to help, but it was past seven and she was supposed to get off at five, so he felt bad that Hephzie had to work so much and he wondered if she would make it to dinner on time.

Stan gave the pasta one last stir, turned off the stove, and poured it into the colander in the sink. “Guess we’ll have to eat without her.” He said casually. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I suppose so.” Ford said as he fished out the plates and added, “I hope everything is alright.”

“I’m sure whatever it is she’s got it covered.”

The door suddenly burst open and Everest ran to her while barking. “Hi! Yes, hello, sweetie! Stanford! Stanley!”

“In the kitchen, darling. Dinner is ready.” Ford called.

Hephzie ran into view, hurried to her husband, and kissed him passionately. Not the usual quick touch for a greeting she always gave, but a deep fiery kiss accompanied by arms wrapped around his shoulders. Ford happily returned the kiss and held her close and he took a second to predict that she had some good news. Did she have a test done at work?! Was she pregnant?!

Hephzie pulled away and squealed with a grin, “Guess who got a promotion?!”

Ford and Stan gasped, having no idea one was even coming, but Ford kissed her again, even picking her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around him while Stan did a cocky dance and hollered, “That’s my girl! Great job, sis! No one deserves it more than you!”

Ford broke away to say, “I’m very proud of you.”

Hephzie made a huge grin as her husband put her down. “Thank you! Thank you very much!”

“So tell us all about it.” Stan said as she sat down and he got her a bowl of spaghetti. “How much more dough are they giving you?”

“Well, ya now the hospital hosts a relationship counselor.” Hephzie reminded the boys. “It’s geared mostly for expecting couples but anyone can use the office. Anyway, we had the same guy for twenty years be the only counselor, Dr. Reasons, but he’s retirin’ at the end of the month, n’ no one’s stepped up to take the full-time job, so instead the hospital is parterin’ with several counselors from neighborin’ towns to give clients a choice in who they go to, n’ they’ve asked me to take a position!”

“What made ‘em do that?” Stan asked as he sat and they all ate.

“I had a minor in psychology in college.” Hephzie explained. “I’ve always enjoyed learnin’ how people’s minds work n’ it’s helped to apply psychology to how newborns’ minds work. Not to mention I got somethang better than a degree.” And she held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers, proudly demonstrating her wedding band and engagement ring. “Grandpa did say experience is the best teacher.”

“So, wait, are you now a part-time marriage counselor?” Ford asked; Hephzie had always made it seem like she loved her job too much to do anything else.

“Not quite. I’ll only be in the office on Thursdays. I might get appointments, but most of ‘em’ll be walk-ins, expectin’ couples not seein’ eye to eye, bickerin’ couples who are datin’, marriages that are losin’ their zing. But the best part is we’ll get an extra four hundred at the end of each month!”

“That’s incredible, my darling!” Ford cheered and kissed her cheek. “I’m so proud of you! I know you’ll be brilliant at it.”

“I beg to differ, her datin’ advice was awful!” Stan sneered with a sly grin.

“My advice worked great, ya just abused it n’ used it too frequently.”

“Whatever.” Stan chuckled.

Later that evening, they were all watching a new episode of that Hispanic soap opera that was so bad they loved it, Brother Husbands, when the phone rang. Hephzie got up to answer it; so many times when the phone rang it was for her to come into work for an emergency, so now there was a habit of her answering it when she could. “Hephzibah Pines speakin'.” She paused as she received a reply and then the boys heard, “Oh, sure, just one moment. Stanford, honey, it’s for ya!” Hephzie called gently.

Ford got up and went to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. Hephzie gave it to him, snuck in a quick kiss on his cleft chin because she could, and rejoined Stan in the living room. “Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

Hephzie sat on the couch and Stan whispered, “Who was it?”

Hephzie shrugged casually and they listened to what Ford was saying. “Oh. Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I… oh.” His tone suddenly dropped from casual to serious and slightly worried. “I see. Well, if I were to… Very well, I understand, sir. Thank you. Yes, thank you.” And then Ford hung up with more force than necessary.

Hephzie and Stan exchanged concerned looks and waited for Ford to slowly walk into view. His head was down as he stared at the floor and he had a defeated look on his face. Stan smiled weakly and asked softly, “Hey, so… what’s the word, Sixer?”

Ford looked up and said in a low voice, “We’ve been fired.”

Stan turned off the TV. “What?” He and Hephzie said at the same time, shocked but not a shout.

“I knew the grant committee wasn’t happy with our research lately, but…” Ford sighed and sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair. “But apparently they decided not to waste their funds on the discovery of anomalies. They said they didn’t see the point in funding research for daydreams.”

“Oh, Stanford, I’m so sorry.” Hephzie put her hands on his shoulders and gently squeezed.

“Don’t worry about it, brother.” Stan assured. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I know we will.” Ford didn’t sound convinced when he said that. He stood up and let Hephzie’s hands fall from him. “I’m going to bed.”

“Stanford, are ya sure you’re okay?” Hephzie asked sweetly, generally worried how this blow might affect her husband.

“I think I just need to be alone right now.” Ford let slip at the doorway, right before disappearing into the dark hallway.

Hephzie and Stan exchanged looks one more time. It was amazing how they could go from jubilant to depressed in such a short amount of time.

* * *

The next day Ford busied himself by re-evaluating the checkbook. He had always paid the bills and organized their money since he was the best with numbers - Hephzie trusted him and was happy to simply give him her check and have him do whatever with it - so now with one of their two sources of income gone, they had to make sure they were okay.

From what Ford could tell, they wouldn’t have to worry about losing the house or skipping meals. Before, the grant money covered their necessities and some bills while Hephzie’s work at the hospital covered the rest and any extra went to savings and college debt. Thanks to this strategy they had quite a bit saved up that they could dip into if needed, but with Hephzie’s new promotion it looked like they would only be a little bit tighter for a few more months until they finished paying off two college loans, and then that extra money would be good “wiggle room” as Hephzie called it. Until then they just couldn’t afford romantic dinners at the Club and it would be catastrophic if say the washer stopped working or the Stanmobile needed a repair.

Money wasn’t the issue for Ford. He wasn’t worried, they were stable, and he never wanted to be rich anyhow. His father might have wanted that, but what Ford wanted more than gold was credibility. He wanted to rub it in everyone's faces that he was more than what they labeled him as. He wanted to make his wife proud like how she made him proud. He wanted to work with Stanley and maybe even one day have enough to retire and sail around the world on that boat they had docked in Gravity Falls’ lake.

As Ford sat at his desk in the thinking parlor with the finances and booking laid out in front of him, completed and solved, it really weighed on him that Hephzibah was providing for them in every way from now on. She was responsible for the groceries, the water bill, the clothes on their backs, light in the house, the mortgage, everything. They could afford it on her new increased income, but it was really starting to hurt Ford’s pride. And he hated that.

Ford had always been very proud of the love of his life and what she has accomplished. She was too quick to belittle her own achievements because she didn’t have twelve PhDs, only one, but Ford was so proud of her it was probably sinful. When she was working and in medical school at the same time those first four years in Gravity Falls, Ford was nothing but supportive of her taking home-classes and working so hard. Those late nights she was studying for an exam or writing an essay after working a twelve hour shift at the hospital, he was right by her side, providing a snack and a kiss and a pat on the back that she was doing a good job. When she graduated from medical school, he and Stanley cheered as loud and as obnoxious as they could, overjoyed for her. Hephzibah had smiled radiantly at seeing Stanley standing on his chair and doing a cocky dance and Ford shouting proudly, “That’s my wife! I married her! That’s my wife!” So many times Hephzibah claimed she wouldn’t be where she is without her family. She had been so supportive of Ford’s crazy ambitions to earn twelve PhDs in four years and he was only happy to return that support. But now Ford was faced with a feeling he hated himself for having.

He should be proud of Hephzibah’s promotion and proud that she can provide for their family. But instead Ford was feeling… melancholy. That was the only word to describe it. He was jealous, bitter, depressed, ashamed... Wait, scratch that, depressed was too serious of a word. He felt a lot of things, but depression wasn’t one of them. Not yet, anyway. Maybe chest fallen? Dethroned? See, this is why melancholy perfectly describes what he was feeling; Ford feels so much that it’s heavy and confusing, so simplifying it into a good word that universally explains all of his emotions is a blessing in the mess of curses he was facing, so Ford settled on the fact that he felt melancholy.

But why? Well, why not? Ford had just lost his job. He could still do what he loves, but he wouldn’t get paid for it anymore. That hurt his pride, but who’s pride wouldn’t that hurt? One of the many benefits of growing up and being an adult was the ultimate goal of doing what you love and supplying your needs through it. Ford had that and now it was gone, and that kind of stung. It then dawned on him that he might have a better understanding of how Stanley sometimes feels. 

His twin was always squirmy when it came to money. Ford first tried to pay him, equally sharing the grant money since they were both researching anomalies, but Stanley denied it. Something along the lines of “living in your house” and “eating your food” or something like that. Ford reasoned with him that this was his house now, and since he was working and the money from said job was paying for said food, it was his, as well. Stanley agreed to this line of thinking eventually, but he still didn’t like getting paid, so Ford and Hephzie compromised and gave him an “allowance”, meaning they put some money away in a savings account just for Stanley to use and no one else and he could use it on whatever he liked. Now that Ford was thinking about it, he doubted Stanley touched it apart from the occasional drinks at the lodge.

As much as Ford hated it, he had to come to the conclusion that he was jealous. Jealous that his wife was the sole breadwinner and not him. He was still proud that she was working and earning money, but it collided ugly with the shame that Ford was not providing for his family’s needs. He was the man of the house, the head of the household, the alpha, the husband. He was supposed to be the one to provide, to work and earn money… Wait a minute, says who?!

In all honesty, Ford didn’t believe it made a difference if someone was male or female, if one functioned better in the house and one functioned better in the workforce, than that’s where they should dwell. It helped Ford’s pride that he worked from home, but when (not if, when) he and Hephzibah become parents, whether or not Ford is working, he will probably be the stay-at-home dad since Hephzibah’s job is so demanding of her time. That didn’t bother him (well, it bothered him a little bit, but only because he wasn’t confident in his abilities to be an exceptional father), and if he continued to be unemployed it wouldn’t be the end of the world; it wasn’t like Ford and Stanley were lazy couch-potatoes; they had always done more than their fair share of household chores and errands and why should that change? But let’s just add insult to injury and remind Ford that he’s not even a parent yet and can’t even do that right.

Ford sighed tiredly and held his forehead and he leaned back in his chair. Maybe it was only the initial feeling of being fired, but it felt like nothing Ford has done recently was successful or even beneficial in any way. His discoveries in anomalies had been absent the last few months with only one or two new findings, he and Hephzibah had been trying for a few months now to have a baby but were not seeing any progress, Ford constantly felt uninspired and he no longer had that drive he once did, and if he took the time to think about it, like he was now, he would realize that it all began at the end of January. When he destroyed the portal. When he discovered Bill’s true plans and banished him back to the Nightmare Realm.

“Hey, Ford,” The overwhelmed scientist looked up at the door and saw Stan with Everest by his side. “You okay? You haven’t left this room all day.”

“I’m fine, Stanley,” Ford said firmly and sat up to try to appear in better shape than he was.

His brother and their dog walked in and while Everest laid his head in Ford’s lap, Stan sat on the velvet couch. “You sure? You know if you wanna talk I’m here for you. I know it sucks losing our job, but we’ll be fine.”

“No, it’s not our financial situation I’m worried about.” Ford said easily and petted Everest while he gestured to his work. “Thanks to Hephzibah’s recent raise we should be fine as long as we cut back on our spending a little.”

“No more name-brand foods, got it.”

Ford managed to crack a smile, but it was soon gone.

“Okay, so if you’re not stressed about the money, then what’s up?” Stan pressed as nicely as he could, but Ford needed to talk about this or else he’d go bonkers. Stan knew this from experience.

Ford sighed and looked away, his face hidden from his twin. “I’m overwhelmed with melancholy, Stanley.”

“Um… okay.” He replied quietly; nevermind that he failed English, Stan knew that wasn’t a good thing.

“I constantly feel like there is a hundred pounds on my shoulders.” Ford let slip to try to explain himself, and now he was starting to burst like a broken dame. “I used to feel so motivated. I used to wake up every day excited and inspired and ready to do what I love. I used to be filled with ideas and I even had a goal I was actively working towards. I was constantly getting things accomplished and making something for ourselves. And I miss that.”

Stan shrugged and gave him a casual smile he couldn’t see. “Anyone would, Sixer, that’s not so bad.”

“No, that’s… that’s not it.” Ford covered his eyes with one hand, his other still on Everest’s head. “I… I miss him.” His voice had been quieter than a whisper, but Stan caught the entire thing and the entire atmosphere changed drastically. He really, really hoped he was wrong about who “he” was.

“What?” Stan tried to hide the panic in his tone, but barely managed it.

“He had been my friend for so long…”

“Ford!” Stan scolded and stood up. “Bill wasn’t a friend! He was using you!”

“I know that!” Ford shouted, more so at himself than his brother, and he threw a fist down at the desk with his eyes squeezed shut over the mental pain he was going through. Everest whimpered over the violent action and noise, but he was ignored. “But I miss who I thought he was. I miss Bill Cipher the Muse of the Mind, not Bill Cipher the Demon of the Nightmare Realm and Manipulator of the Mind.”

“But… Ford…” Stan was at a loss for words, unable to put two-and-two together. “He’s horrible!” He finally managed to spit out.

“ _I’M_ horrible!” Ford yelled and turned to face Stan. “I’ve done horrible things! I let Pa kick you out! I let Bill use my own body to hurt Hephzibah! I nearly caused Fiddleford to lose his mind all for a stupid anomaly! I’m a horrible person who’s done horrible things! How am I any better…”

“Don’t even go there, Stanford Pines.” Stan growled fiercely. “You’re way better than some unholy dorito with a top hat. Yes, you’re not perfect and sometimes you suck. But you’re a good man. I’ve never seen anyone love another person the same way you love Hephzie. She’s the luckiest gal in the universe to have you. And I’m the luckiest guy to have you for a brother. You’re a great friend and you deserve only the best. I know that means you deserve way better than a couple of crackpots in the middle of roadkill county, but even though I don’t know much I know for sure you deserve WAY better than what Bill was doing to you. 

“And I get it,” Stan sat back down on the couch, his eyes not leaving his best friend. “Sometimes you feel like you don’t deserve anything good. Sometimes you feel like no one likes you cuz you don’t even like yourself, but believe me, Ford, _it’s possible_. It’s possible to buy the idea that you deserve people who aren’t straight up shit when there’s enough awesome people who actually believe it and tell it to you over and over again. _It’s possible to actually like yourself_ , even if only a little bit, and it’s easier when you’ve got such an awesome family who’s got your back and tells you they like you everyday. And if I gotta say it everyday from now on instead of letting noogies and jokes and saving your ass say it for me, then I will.” Stan concluded with and gave Ford that complex looks that could hardly be described in writing, so I won’t even bother.

Ford slowly morphed from shocked, to overwhelmed, to swallowing the message and the emotions he was going through, to feeling better than he had felt in a long time, all through a bit-lip and the relaxing of his facial features and making a smile effortlessly. “Thank you, Stanley. I have no idea what I would do without you.”

Stan shrugged and offered, “You’d be bored.”

Ford chuckled lightly and nodded. “You’re probably right.”

* * *

Hephzibah snored gently besides him. That means she was sleeping very soundly. Stanford smiled at her still-form and laid on his back in bed. He wasn’t drowsy as one should be in bed at this time of night, but he wasn’t full of energy, either. He was calm and at peace with lying there and waiting for the SandMan to slap him into unconsciousness. Huh. That might actually be an anomaly to investigate.

But then something slowly dawned on him until it hit him with so much force he sat up. Stanford’s mouth was open like a fish as he racked his brain and went over his million of ideas that wove into one another, creating one big glorious idea. Grinning, he hurried out of bed as quietly as he could, stepped into his slippers, scooped up three journals from the drawer in his nightstand, and left his bedroom for the thinking parlor.

In his light-blue flannel pajamas, Stanford opened Journal 1 and reread his old notes. Seven years ago this summer he began studying the wondrous sightings of Gravity Falls, and while a bunch of snobbish college officials may no longer be impressed, perhaps he simply needed to change his target-audience. Stanford picked up a thick, heavy, brown suitcase from besides his desk and lifted it up onto his workspace. He opened it and grinned at the old college tool that was handy when writing papers. It was with this he had first earned his grant money. How quaint it would help him again.

Stanford popped his twelve fingers and began typing, allowing the clicks and bells to sing his song for the future.


	12. Drunken Request

Ford was turning twenty-one. The coming of summer, completely opposite for him when he was a kid, was a giant headache. He always managed to find a way to wiggle his way from coming home to Glass Shard Beach. He had just finished his junior year of college and, while he had a place to stay back in New Jersey, he could hardly stand to be home for the holidays, let alone three whole months.

The summer between freshman and sophomore year, Ford had stayed with Fiddleford in Tennessee. The summer between sophomore and junior year, Ford took some summer classes to earn his fifth PhD. None of the classes this summer that Backupsmore was holding would accomplish a PhD that Ford didn't already have, so he was going to be working full-time at the library to keep him in the dorms.

Summer was always bittersweet, seeing how his girlfriend and lifelong friend, Hephzie, always went home to stay with her grandfather and work as a waitress at The Juke Joint. Ford tried to talk Hephzie into staying with him over the summer, but she admitted to him that she missed her grandfather and she hated the idea of leaving him alone ever since Grandma had died. Ford respected the kind heart she had for her family, and so every summer they sent letters to each other, small memoirs about their summers, staying busy and productive.

Hephzie delayed going home for a few weeks to enjoy a mini-vacation. Fiddleford and his girlfriend, Maddie, who was also Hephzie's roommate, also waited to go home until after Ford's birthday. He didn't pretend to be unaware of their intentions. While Ford usually hated his birthday and wanted nothing more than a pat on the back and maybe a sweet treat, he was the youngest of the little friends group to turn twenty-one and the other three had purposely been waiting to go out drinking.

And so a fun night had been planned on Ford's birthday, also acting as a celebration for making it to their senior year of college and a somewhat late birthday celebration for the other three. Ford agreed to go out, and after visiting a sushi bar in San Francisco, they walked down a couple of blocks and went into an alcohol bar. It wasn't a loud club with blaring disco music or flashing lights, rather a cozy wooden bar with Appalachian music and motorcycle riders. The four college students quickly made themselves comfortable, Fiddleford and Maddie feeling as if they were back in Tennessee over fried chicken tenders and beer and Hephzie beating Ford at darts.

Ford enjoyed whisky, vaguely remembering his father keeping a bottle above the fridge and having stolen a swing with Stan when they were fourteen, but he was fine after one serving and stuck to water if he was thirsty after that, though he knew he could drink a lot before even feeling a little tipsy. Fiddleford and Maddie both drank two bottles of beer, but Hephzie had rubbed one guy the wrong way and, while the other three had been busy listening to an old sailor's stories, had ended up in a competition with the guy to see who could finish the most shots in sixty seconds. Ford only noticed what happened when he heard loud cheering and turned to the bar to see Hephzie cheering with twelve empty glasses in front of her and the guy in front of her only had nine. Ford felt himself turn a shade paler and he kept a careful eye on Hephzie after that.

Hephzie didn't touch another drop of alcohol, knowing she drank way too much, but she snacked on pretzels and water and hoped that she wouldn't get too drunk, but oh Sweet Lord was she done for.

It wasn't even ten o'clock when Hephzie was so slobbering drunk she could hardly stand straight. Ford had to hold his breath not to laugh at her as her inner child came to the surface. Hephzie was always fun, spontaneous, and outgoing, but at least her delivery was more appropriate for her age. Ford had his full of human interaction and all he wanted was to go back to his dorm and read a book before bed, so he told Fiddleford and Maddie to keep partying without them and Ford would take Hephzie back to Backupsmore. The southern couple normally would have gone back with them, but they had just started karaoke and they wanted to stick around for the music.

Ford had to help Hephzie walk. She stripped over her feet and swayed so dangerously that Ford was worried that she would fall and hit her head, but she was too rambunctious to allow Ford to carry her bridal-style, as he would prefer, so he settled for holding her hand tightly and guiding her to the trolley stop.

When they stopped and waited for the trolley, they let an old lady sit on the bench and they stood. Hephzie then looked down at their held hands and then brought up their hold to her glossy, wide eyes. "F-F-Fordsie, a-are we… um... datin' or somethang?" She slurred.

Ford chuckled into his free fist and decided to be the voice of reason. "Sweetheart, we've been dating for over three years."

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat." Hephzie awed quietly and looked up at him with shining eyes, like this was the best thing she had ever heard in her whole life. "R-Really?"

Ford's chuckle grew. "Yes."

"YAY!" Hephzie cheered, threw her hands up in the air, and then hugged Ford around the neck tightly. "I'm the luckiest gal i-in the world! Hooray! I hit the jackpot!"

"Hephzibah, you're choking me." Ford wheezed.

Hephzie let go quickly and covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh my God, I'm so so so so so, Fordsie! I'm sorry I hurt ya!"

Ford didn't know if it made him a bad boyfriend or not to laugh a little at her overreaction. "It's okay, Hephzie." He said.

Hephzie let out a huge breath and held her heart, then started to fall to the side, but Ford quickly caught her by her underarms. "Oh, thank God! My hero!"

Ford laughed a little and saw the red trolley pulling forward. He helped Hephzie stand up straight and he took her hand again. "Alright, Hephzie, you need to keep your voice down."

"Okay!" Hephzie yelled with a toothy grin.

Ford shushed her gently, but she shushed back loudly. He rolled his eyes and wondered if the world was giving him a clue as to what it was like to parent. The trolley pulled forward and Ford showed their passports and they got on. They took a seat in the back while the old lady several rows in front of them and pulled out some knitting from her bag to work on. Ford sat Hephzie between him and the window and she drunkenly looked out at the city.

The trolley started to pull forward and Hephzie awed at the beautiful scenery. Ford chuckled under his breath at her as she stared at San Francisco and the bright lights that made the city come to life when the sun went down. Ford happily watched her, but soon she slowly looked away from the city and looked at him. He smiled gently at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, having not let go of her soft hand since getting on the trolley. He hoped that smile he gave her would make her return it, but his drunk girlfriend just gave him this odd look, like she was doing some deep thinking and putting in a lot of effort in order to do so, the alcohol not helping much.

"Fordsie?" Hephzie said quietly, with a hint of nervousness, like a child about to admit that she had done something wrong.

Ford's smile refused to go away. "Yes, darling?"

"I love ya."

Ford wondered if she couldn't remember that she said that at least five times a day and thought that this was her first time saying so. "I love you, too." He chuckled happily.

"No," Hephzie said and looked down at their held hands. "It-it's not funny. I'm not… I'm not jokin'. I love ya, Fordsie. I love ya more than l-l-life itself… cuz without ya... I have no life."

Ford blinked like a confused owl. He firmly reminded himself that Hephzie was drunk and not entirely herself, but even in her drunken state, she was determined to make sure he knew she loved him. Ford smiled admirably at her, but that smile was soon replaced by awestruck wonder when Hephzie gently held his hand with both of her own, held their hold up a little higher, and she kissed each of his bent fingers slowly and gently. It wasn't uncommon for Hephzie to kiss his hand or for Ford to kiss her hand, but this wasn't a kiss on the back of a hand before parting ways, or a kiss on the knuckles to make fun of classy traditions. Hephzie was passionately kissing all six of Ford's fingers, right over his metacarpals, and holding his polydactyl hand so gently. When Hephzie finished kissing him, she looked up at him with round eyes and his smile returned.

"Hephzibah, I love you, too." Ford said quietly and used his free left hand to cup her cheek and graze it with his thumb. "I love you very much, more than I've ever loved anyone else."

"R-Really?" Hephzie asked.

Ford chuckled at her and brought his left arm around her to have her lean on his chest and rest. "Really."

Hephzie was still heavily intoxicated, but her energy was leaving her and she was more like a sleepy child. She held Ford's gold polo tightly with her free hand and refused to let go of his hand. Ford watched the trolley go over the Golden Gate bridge as they started towards Backupsmore. 

On one stop, outside of a little neighborhood, the old lady got off, but not without throwing the young couple an ugly look and a "hmph" of disapproval. Ford scowled at her and then was shocked when Hephzie straightened up, pointed at the old lady, and slurred, "Fuck off."

"Hephzibah!" Ford gasped. "Language."

"It's English, F-Fordsie."

Ford sighed. "No, you shouldn't swear like that."

"Disgusting." The old lady sneered at the door just loud enough for it to be heard from the back of the trolley.

Hephzie surprisingly picked it up while drunk and tried to stand up. "Fuck off, ya saggy ass bitch!"

"Hephzibah, no!" Ford scolded and held Hephzie down in her seat. "Calm down."

"Snot-nosed, ashy-skinned, wrinkly ass, shit-eatin', narrow-minded, long titty, no nipple..."

"For Moses' sake, Hephzibah!" Ford gasped, no longer scolding her but now astounded that she was capable of so many swears, drunk or not. "Calm down, shh."

Hephzie shushed him back, crossed her arms, and mumbled more colorful swears under her breath. Ford sighed and rubbed his forehead, anxious to get Hephzie to her dorm for the night.

Hephzie's anger only lasted a few minutes. Ford watched her slowly unravel from her tight seated position, her face relaxing, and she slipped her arms over Ford's chest and hugged him. He smiled down at her and rubbed her back. He knew her well enough to know that Hephize was like a bunny in her sleep: she curled up as much as she could, holding either her knees or a pillow or whoever she had fallen asleep against, brought her legs close to her body, and often half-buried her face into something soft. Ford had seen her do this on the grass of a warm day, in a desk chair, and by his side. Tonight was no exception.

Ford looked down to see if she was going to fall asleep, but Hephzie's eyes were open and she was quiet the rest of the journey, like she was thinking. Ford kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back.

When the trolley pulled up to the gates of Backupsmore, Ford took Hephzie's hand and walked her off the ride. She was slower now, but she didn't stumble as much now. Ford continued to hold her hand and also wrapped his free arm around her arm to keep her close to his side. Hephzie made no resistance and looked down hazily as they walked across campus.

They were halfway to the dorms when Hephzie spoke again. "F-F-Fordsie?"

"Yes, darling?"

"W-W-Would ya... m-marry me?"

Ford's eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. He looked at Hephzie and, for a moment, forgot that she was drunk. "Wh-What?"

"Would ya marry me, Fordsie?" Hephzie asked and they stopped walking. She held both of his hands and even got down on one knee. "I love you so much, Fordsie, but I know ya could do so much better than me. I can't, for the life o' me, figure out why ya would want me, but I can't live without ya, Fordsie. I'd… um… I'd rather jump offta bridge than live a day without ya, so I'm askin' if ya would even consider marryin' me."

She was gazing up at him with pleading eyes. He had only seen that look once or twice. He could remember seeing that same fear, that same pleading look in her eyes when she told him she loved him for the first time. He could also remember a similar look on her face when they first kissed at the library back in New Jersey. It was like Hephzie was too stubborn to ask for Ford not to leave her or hate her or judge her, so she asked with one begging facial expression.

Ford was hurt that Hephzie would think for one moment that there was even a possibility that he wouldn't want her, but there were more pressing matters. Hephzie had just asked him to marry her! Wait, no. She asked if he would marry her. There was a difference, but did a drunk Hephzie know that? Not to mention that Ford didn't think it was a good idea to get engaged when one of them was intoxicated, and he had hoped that the roles would have been reversed when the time came.

He decided to take her seriously, because he could tell that this was serious for her. "Of course I would. I love you, Hephzibah." Ford got on his knees to be level with her and said, "I want to marry you. I would even be okay with hopping on another trolley and marrying you tonight. I love you and I want to spend my life with you, so yes. I would marry you."

Hephzie sighed with relief like she was holding her breath and she collapsed back into his chest. Ford held her tightly and tried to think straight. Someone had to. He was serious. If Hephzie really wanted to, Ford would go with her to a local courthouse and have them married on the spot, but he knew her better than that and knew that she wouldn't want that.

"M'kay." Hephzie slurred into his chest. "Le'go."

Ford smiled down at her. "Go where?"

"Go get married." Hephzie said like it was the obvious thing in the world.

Ford chuckled under his breath. "Maybe tomorrow. Let's get you to bed." And he swiftly held her bridal-style and got up and lifted with his knees. Hephzie was a little heavy, but Ford could carry her just fine to the dorms.

"I'm not tired. I wanna marry ya." Hephzie moaned, her arms around his neck and her face buried in his chest.

Ford couldn't control his chuckling. "I want to marry you, too, but you need some sleep. We can get married tomorrow."

"No, I wanna get married now." Hephzie argued in a childish way.

Ford laughed and they entered the girls' dormitories. The building was mostly empty, it being the middle of June, so Ford couldn't rely on anyone to help him by activating the elevator. Luckily he managed to press the button with his elbow and still talk to Hephzie.

"F-F-Fordsie?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Would ya have kids wit me?"

"Someday, yes."

"F-F-Fordsie?"

"Yes, darling?"

"C-Can we name our son after ya?"

"No, sweetheart, I don't think so."

"Aw, boo! I wanna Fordsie Jr."

Ford chuckled as they were ascended up to his girlfriend's floor. "Yes, but I would prefer not to give any of our children my name."

"F-F-Fordsie?"

Ford sighed. "Yes, darling?" As cute as her questioning may be, it was a little draining.

"I wanna have twins."

Ford leaned against the wall of the elevator to help keep Hephzie up. It had been awhile since he had worked out, not since his old boxing days. He smiled sadly down at her. "You do?"

"Mm, hm." Hephzie nuzzled her face a little deeper into his clothing and seemed too close to falling asleep for comfort, though if she did Ford guessed it would be the end of the world. "I-I-I m-miss him."

Ford's smile disappeared again. He was mad at his twin for a lot of things, but this was the icing on the cake. Not only had he abandoned Ford, he had abandoned Hephzie. "I know. I'm sorry."

"P-P-Please don't leave m-me." Hephzie begged.

Ford kissed her forehead. "I won't. I promise."

"F-F-Fordsie?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I love ya."

Ford's smile was back. "I love you, too."

The elevator opened to Hephzie's floor and Ford carried her to her dorm. He carefully pulled out Hephzie's keys from her back pocket, a difficult task one-armed and holding her, but he managed to get the keys, holding Hephzie up with a knee, and Ford unlocked her dorm. Half of it was decorated with blue ribbons and plants and flowers and had a red quilt over the bed (Maddie's side of the dorm). The other half was decorated with posters from her favorite music groups and artists, and framed photos. Ford smiled at one that was on her small desk of their small friend group under their usual willow tree. One was of Ford, Stan, and Hephzie fishing as children. Another was Hephzie with her grandparents.

Thankfully, Hephzie's bed wasn't a bunk bed, like Ford's, so he pulled down the covers and tried to lie Hephzie in bed, but she wouldn't release him.

"Hephzie, let go." Ford chuckled and tried to pull himself free from her grip as she lied in bed.

"No." Hephzie muttered, her eyes closed and she sounded so close to falling asleep. "Ya said ya wouldn't leave."

Ford rolled his eyes and wanted to laugh, but he suppressed it. "I meant I… okay, fine."

He kicked off his shoes and slid into bed with Hephzie. She finally let go when she was sure Ford wasn't leaving and he slipped off his polo, leaving his white undershirt. Hephzie slipped her shoes off and let them fall off the side of the bed and against the wall. She curled up against Ford's chest, again, and he held her close. Pretty soon the room was blessed with the soft sound of her deep breathing and she was asleep. Ford knew he could probably slip away and go sleep in his own dorm, but why on Earth would he want to do that?

* * *

Ford woke up early the next morning and left Hephzie to sleep alone quietly. Maddie camped out with Fiddleford last night to give them some space and Ford had to explain to them that, no, they hadn't done anything aside from sleeping, and the other couple pretended not to believe him.

Hephzie didn't wake up until noon. She had a monster hangover that sent her throwing up the minute she woke up and she spent all day with her head under the blankets and the curtains drawn and she tried to sleep away this horrible headache and nausea. Maddie checked on her from time to time, but Hephzie only drank water and requested to be alone.

A soft knock that felt like someone was hammering on Hephzie's head disturbed her around three o'clock. "What?" She moaned and peeked at the door.

Ford opened it and closed it quietly behind him, a grocery bag in his arm. "Hey, Maddie said you weren't feeling well."

"Did she also tell ya I wanna be alone?" Hephzie groaned and hid her head under the blankets again.

"Yes, but then she said you weren't doing anything to treat yourself, so I knew it was my job to do so." Ford pulled her desk chair up to her bed and gently shook her shoulder. "Come on, you can't take your medicine on an empty stomach."

Hephzie groaned and peeked to see what Ford brought. He pulled out a banana and even peeled it for her. Hephzie sat up and took it. "I don't deserve ya."

Ford gave a huff of amusement. "You sound like a broken record after last night."

Hephzie gasped, nearly choking on her bite of banana, and said in a strained voice that might have been yelling if she wasn't sensitive to sound, "Last night? Shit, I… I don't remember. What the hell did I do?"

Ford stared at her. "You… you don't remember?"

Hephzie took another bite from her fruit to try to get her stupid brain to work and said said slowly, "N-No. I… I remember the bar. That asshole challenged me to a drinkin' contest. I kicked his ass. I tried to eat n' drink a lot of water, but… crap. I don't remember anythang after we sat by the window n' watched that stray kitty walk across the street."

Ford didn't know how to feel about this. Well, maybe it was for the best. Hephzie didn't ask him to marry her. She had asked if he would. There was a difference. It didn't change the fact that Ford still wanted to marry her someday.

"What did I do last night?" Hephzie asked and waited for an answer as she ate.

Ford decided to tell the truth, just not the whole truth. "Honestly, it was like you were nine-years-old again. You were just a bundle of joy. You even forgot we were dating for a moment and cheered when I told you we were. Oh, and you cussed out this old lady on the trolley."

"I did?" Hephzie giggled.

"You did." Ford laughed. "You told her she had no nipples."

Hephzie snorted and had to hold the banana away as she laughed, but then regretted the sudden loud noise and rubbed her forehead. Ford laughed quietly at her before pulling out a sports drink and a bottle of aspirin.

"Here, take this. The migraine should be gone soon."

Hephzie took the pills, popped them in her mouth, and then took the drink and swallowed. "What else happened?"

Ford looked to the side, avoiding her eyes, and said, "Well, you became clingy as you fell asleep. I ended up sleeping here with you. You wouldn't let go. And… that's it."

Hephzie smiled mischievously at him. "Did I wake up a virgin?"

"Yes, Hephzibah, we both did." Ford said with a roll of his eyes.

Hephzie snapped her fingers. "Shit, then that's the point of gettin' drunk?"


	13. Surprising Changes

“Shampoo? Conditioner? What about your coconut oil? Your lotions?”

“Yes, yes, I got it, n’ yes. It’s all here.” Hephzibah said, patting her thick suitcase, packing only the essentials, but she would be gone for a long time. She had packed her bathing products and toiletries, and also seven different tops and four pairs of pants, along with anything other articles of clothing she would need, like socks or underwear or bras. It was mid-fall, so she wore her favorite black leather jacket over a red blouse with her blue jeans and black high-heel boots.

Stanford was behind Hephzibah, helping her mostly just so he could spend some more time with her. When she told him about this important trip a few weeks ago he didn’t think it would bother him this much, but here he was, anxious that his wife was going to be away for a rather extensive period of time. He nervously messed with his hands as he asked, “And your wallet? And your keys? You have a tendency of losing them, my dear.”

“They’re in my pocket.” Hephzibah even pulled out her keys from her coat to prove it and twirled them on her finger.

“Okay. Did you remember to pack your bras? What about your books in case you have some free-time in the evening?”

“If I have free-time at night it’ll be spent talkin’ to ya, sweetheart.” Hephzibah said earnestly.

Stanford smiled like a bashful owl. He took a minute to admire her before muttering quietly, “I’m going to miss you.”

Hephzibah smiled admirably at her husband; he had a way of making her feel so loved through the little things, especially with no intention. “I’ll miss ya, too. C’mere.” And she put her suitcase down to free her arms.

Stanford hugged her with a sense of urgency, his fingers in her dreadlocks and her body pressed up against his. He squeezed his eyes shut to just enjoy the moment. He wasn’t exactly getting emotional but the gravity of what was happening was weighing in heavily. What on Earth was the matter with him?

“Stanford, honey, you’re shakin’.”

“Am I?” He truly had been unaware of it.

“I’ll call ya every chance I get, ya know that.”

“Yes, I know.”

“N’ ya n’ Stan’ll be so busy ya won’t have time to miss me.”

“I’ll make time.” Stanford joked, making them both chuckle. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

“I haven’t done anythang.”

“That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. And even if it doesn’t feel that way, you’re on your way to do something incredible; you’re going to save their lives. I don’t think a man has ever been more proud than I am right now.”

Hephzibah squeezed him in return. “Th-Thank you. That’s all I ever try to do…”

“You don’t even have to try.”

“Lord, I’m really gonna miss ya.” The doctor croaked. “Now, don’t forget to get some sleep. If I catch ya bein’ up passed two…”

“I’ll try. But it will be hard to sleep soundly without you there with me.”

Hephzibah chuckled and held his left hand with her right, looking up at him admirably. He had gotten a lot better at flirting and expressing his feelings for her through words since their wedding day and even more so since high-school. “Sweetheart, ya know the real reason why we got married?”

Stanford was thrown by the question, but he decided to go with it to see what Hephzibah had in mind. “Because we fell in love?”

“That’s one reason, but there’s more than one.”

“So that we would always be together?”

“Very close.” Hephzibah held his left hand, the hand that bore his wedding ring, with both of her own hands. “We got married so we could be together even when we’re apart. Ya can’t boil marriage down to just one goal or one promise - love n’ human bein’s are way too complicated for that - but to marry someone is to make it clear that even if we’re not together, we’re together.”

“Together even when we are apart.” Stanford repeated with a chuckle and lifted his left hand to his lips so he could kiss both of his wife’s hands. “You always bring such an amazing and unique perspective to long-existed ideas and theories. I will never tire of learning how you see the world.”

Hephzibah blushed with a goofy smile and kissed his lips softly, a little peck, but when she pulled away Stanford leaned in. They enjoyed a long, deep kiss, taking it in while they could. When it was over, Hephzibah called, “Boys, aren’t ya gonna say g’bye to me?”

“We are,” Stanley called from the living room; while he was slower when it came to rising from the armchair and joining the couple, the Saint Bernard hurried to his Mama at the sound of her call and was wagging his cotton-ball tail and had his two front paws on Hephzibah’s legs. “We were just waiting for you two love-birds to quit being saps.” Stanley teased.

Hephzibah laughed as she scratched Everest’s ears and she had the dog sit like a good boy so she could hug her brother-in-law. “Keep an eye on your brother for me. Take care of yourself. N’ try not to get yourselves killed out there.” She joked in his ear.

“You got it.” Stanley hugged her and then let go to pat her back in a manly sort of fashion. “Be careful out there; everyone knows Portland’s full of high hippies and queer college students.”

“Are ya kiddin’, sounds like my kind of party.” They shared a laugh and then Hephzibah sneaked a quick kiss on Stanley’s cheek, making him freeze and blush with shock. “Love ya, little brother. I’ll miss ya.” And she picked up her suitcase while Stanley put a hand to his cheek and smiled timidly.

“Y-Y-Yeah… thanks… Love you, too, sis.”

Stanford kissed her one last time before opening the door for her. It was a little after lunch and the day was beautiful and very comfortable, making standing on the porch and saying goodbye to a family member easier. The twins stood with Everest there, watching Hephzibah leave home. She squeezed her suitcase into the back-compartment behind her seat on the motorcycle. Hephzibah then slipped on her helmet, sat on the bike, and called back to her family, “See ya in a month!”

Then she started the engine with a proud roar and drove down the dirt road as her boys waved to her and Everest howled farewell.

* * *

Hephzie stepped into the hotel room. It was a nice one-person place with a queen sized bed and a TV and even a little balcony. The bed looked really comfortable and it took everything in her not to collapse into it. After traveling, touring the hospital, and meeting her temporary co-workers, she knew she should probably order some pizza or takeout, but all she wanted was to go to bed so she had plenty of energy for tomorrow. She could have a hefty complimentary breakfast tomorrow.

Hephzie plopped her suitcase down at the foot of the bed and popped it open for her bag of toiletries and her pajamas, but folded just beneath her first nightgown was a very familiar trenchcoat. She smiled and picked it up, letting it unfold as she observed that it was definitely one of Fordie’s. A little sticky-note fell out onto the bed and Hephzie picked it up to read it.

_Something to remember me by. I love you. - Stanford Pines._

Hephzie smiled and pulled on the trenchcoat. Immediately she could smell her husband’s familiar scent and her whole body relaxed. It was like he was here, hugging her. She wrapped her arms around herself and buried her face in the collar of the coat. Suddenly very tired, Hephzie laid down on the bed and curled up like a little bunny, and she accidentally fell asleep that way until she woke up at three on impulse.

* * *

Stanford laid awake in bed. He had no intention of falling asleep, wide awake as he stared at the ceiling and was waiting for something. Hephzibah had left yesterday; she didn’t call last night, which was fine, but Stanford was hoping she would call today, but it had yet to happen.

Hephzibah had to travel three hours to Portland for a very important assignment she had been requested for. A young couple in the big city were expecting a pair of twins, but things weren’t looking good; complicated health issues collided ugly and, to make a long story short, there was a high probability of an emergency when the day of the birth came. So, as top NICU nurse in her hospital and one of the most daring, courageous, and devoted doctors in the region, Dr. Hephzibah Pines was given a hotel room and a temporary job as the baby-twins’ doctor, partnering with the team in Portland for everyone’s best chance of survival.

Stanford was beyond proud of her for willing to do so much and go so far for people she had never even met. The hours would be long and she would be going from working four days a week to six days a week, only having Sundays off and she was given extremely strict rules to stay in the city in case there was an emergency. With all of that being said, it meant her phone calls would be random and quite possibly not during daylight hours unless she decided to call on Sundays (it was Wednesday). Stanford could live without a phone call, but still. He missed her a lot.

He turned his head to look at where Hephzibah would have been laying. It wasn’t unusual for him to be in bed alone if she was working late (which was often), but at least he could fall asleep with the assurance that she would soon join him, and almost always he was still awake when she came home because he was such a night owl and seemed to rely more on coffee than sleep. Stanford sighed and turned away from the rest of the bed, lying on his left side and slightly squishing his glasses. He quietly tapped the mattress with his pointer finger, lost in thought, when the phone rang by his bed and he quickly picked it up. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him it was almost midnight.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

 _“Hey!”_ Hephzibah sighed happily. _“It’s so good to hear your voice, love! I’ve missed ya!”_

Stanford smiled as relief swept over him and he sat up. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart. So very much. But how have you been? Did you make it there safely? How is the hotel? Are the other doctors nice?”

 _“Slow down, honey.”_ Hephzibah chuckled, making Stanford’s heart flutter. _“Everythang’s fine, I’ll tell ya everythang.”_

Stanford happily listened to his wife gush about her day and her newfound optimism that she could help the people that needed her. Apart from complaining about traffic, her story was nothing but hopeful and ready to take on the challenge ahead of her. Stanford was relieved to hear all of this and talked with her until she had to go to bed for a long day tomorrow. He fell asleep, at peace, and managed to sleep soundly.

* * *

It had been about five days since Hephzibah had left and a week since Stanford had last shaved. After brushing his teeth one day, he finally noticed this and supposed he should, but then he stopped and gave the subject some thought; as most grown men would, he toyed with the idea of growing a beard.

Stanford craned his neck and lifted his chin, examining the little bit of stubble he had already. When it grows out it would reach his sideburns nicely and could very well look nice. Still, would Hephzibah like it? A memory came to mind from back in college. 

_Stanford had visited her at work, at the coffee shop, and a couple at a nearby table were fighting over whether or not the boyfriend should shave. The girlfriend was screeching something about it hurting to kiss him and the boyfriend was snapping at her that he’d do whatever he wanted with his face, including kiss her at all. Stanford winced, unable to look away from the entertaining fight, and Hephzibah made a disapproving noise as she made a cappuccino with a heart on the foam. “Sweetie, promise me somethang.”_

_“Alright.”_

_“If I ever act like that or try to tell ya how ya should look, shoot me.”_

_Stanford snorted and turned his attention to his girlfriend. “While I will never promise to be that drastic, how about I compromise with a stern warning?”_

_“You’re no fun.” Hephzibah teased._

_Stanford was thinking as he read from his book. He then asked, “Would you not want me to grow a beard?”_

_“Sorry?” Hephzibah hadn’t heard him clearly the first time, so she paused brewing coffee for another order and gave him her full attention._

_“Would you be against me growing a beard some day?”_

_“I’d be against ya doin’ or not doin’ somethang cuz of what others think, even me.” Hephzibah called out the name of a large black coffee and resumed making her boyfriend’s coffee with a little extra detail because she could. “Why’d ya ask? Thinkin’ of growin’ one?”_

_“No, I don’t think I will.” Stanford said with a shrug. “I was just wondering.”_

_“All I ask is if ya choose to grow one to use conditioner or my coconut butter or somethang.” Hephzibah chuckled. “It hurts kissin’ stubble after a while.”_

_Stanford crossed his arms over his book and leaned forward slightly. “Then that settles it. I definitely won’t grow one. I would like to kiss you as much as possible.”_

_Hephzibah chucked bashfully, leaned forward, and kissed him with her eyes closed. After that she put the cappuccino in front of the book, but Stanford said, “I didn’t order that for me, my dear,” and had her have the drink made with love._

Stanford now felt the stubble; Hephzibah and other women had a point and he could understand that it might hurt to kiss. Still, he wasn’t receiving a kiss for a month regardless, so he could give it a try, attempting to grow a beard without the variable of his wife (not that she would inconvenience the experiment severely; quite the contrary, she probably would have been helpful and encouraging). Stanford then had a fun idea of surprising Hephzibah with a new look; how surprised she would be to come home and find that her husband decided to grow facial hair! Even if Stanford decided to shave later or if Hephzibah found she didn’t like it very much, it would still be a fun joke.

And so he made up his mind. He simply washed his face and left his razor abandoned by his damp toothbrush.

* * *

As September ended and October came, the days were gradually becoming cooler and softer. The woods were painted red and orange and gold. With the changing of the seasons came extensive research as to how the anomalies of Gravity Falls reacted. 

Many days were spent inside than outside as Stanford was hit with another wave of inspiration and was constantly working on his book, Stanford and Stanley did venture in nature often, studying the gnomes’ gathering berries for their queen, watching the sirens change their swimming patterns, and finding more hoofprints, both from deer and Manotaurs. With the animals becoming more active, some hurrying for hibernation, that also meant the humans had to re-establish their territory, reminding the other species to leave their house alone and that they were not welcome to bunk under the porch or too close to the house. Twice Everest was seen chewing on a gnome’s hat on the porch and the cowls were coming and going as they pleased, letting out that awful noise only at dusk and dawn.

Everest remained an excellent guard-dog, alerting the twins if anything was out of the ordinary. However, after a few days it became clear that Mama wasn’t just busy at work and that she was away and he had no idea when she was coming back.

Stanford was reading a book in bed when he heard a sniff coming from the hallway. He listened and he heard what sounded like a big dog pacing in front of his bedroom door and gently scratching at it, knowing better than to whine. Stanford got out of bed and opened the door to find his pet looking up at him. “Everest, my boy, what’s the matter?”

Of course, the Saint Bernard didn’t answer, but he did look happier in Stanford’s presence and he rubbed his big head against the human’s leg, wanting pets. Stanford scratched behind his ear and let him in. He and Hephzibah only closed their bedroom door to keep out anomalies at night, but when Everest was a puppy he used to sleep with them, up until he got too big and slept on the couch according to Stanley. (Still, Stanford had walked into the living room to find an empty couch too many times to believe his brother’s lie and therefore knew Everest slept with Stanley at night.)

Everest hopped up on the bed and curled up into a large ball of fur on Hephzibah’s side of the bed, his nose breathing in heavily, taking in her scent. Stanford smiled and petted his head softly. “I know. I miss Mama, too.” He decided that was enough reading for one night and he turned off his lamp to try to get some sleep.

Everest scooted himself closer to Stanford, his head by the man’s ribs, and Stanford laid his arm comfortably so his hand was on Everest’s head. Stanford smiled and decided that he could allow Everest to keep Hephzibah’s side of the bed warm.

* * *

It was late. Very late at night. Stanford had been buzzing and finally seemed to slow down around one o’clock in the morning. He was washing his face for the evening, his stubble no longer as prickly as it was two weeks ago; his facial hair was still a little thin and new, but Stanford hoped it would be at least passable for a beard by the time Hephzibah came home.

Speaking of, the phone rang. Stanford was a little surprised that she was calling so late, but happy she was. He hurried to the phone and answered with, “Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

_“Hey, Ford. I’m sorry if I’m botherin’ ya or keepin’ ya from bed.”_

Stanford was even more surprised by two additional things: his wife’s tone and her unnecessary apology. She was attempting to be cheery with her voice, but something was wrong, Stanford was sure of it, especially when she knew him better to know that there was a good chance he was nowhere near bed at this hour. “Hephzibah, darling, is something wrong?” He asked gently as he sat on the bed. Everest perked his head up from his little nap.

_“No, m’fine.”_

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything.”

Hephzibah sighed tiredly. _“Yeah. I know.”_ Her throat sounded like it was tight.

Stanford grabbed the cord of the phone with his free hand. “My dear, what happened?” He implored.

On the other end of the line, Hephzibah scrubbed at her stinging eyes and tried to be brave; it would hurt Stanford way too much for her to cry and he couldn’t do anything, so she needed to hold it together until she hung up. This was stupid; she shouldn’t have called at all, but she had desperately wanted to talk to him. _“Stanford, I… I dunno what to do. The twins… m’not sure if they’ll make it. Sarah’s lungs aren’t functioning on her own n’ Sophia’s just so small. Their parents… God, they’re so heartbroken. Their mother told me that they tried for years to have a baby n’ it looks like these kids may be the only ones they ever get, n’... I-I-I w-wanna help ‘em, but how can I help with somethang like that? Those girls just gotta get better n’ I just feel so lost.”_ She was choking so she stopped.

“Oh, Hephzibah, I’m so sorry.” Stanford said earnestly. His knuckles tightened around the cord of the telephone since he couldn’t hug her or hold her hand. “I… I wish I could say or do something that would aid in the situation, but I can’t think of…” Stanford allowed a meek chuckle to escape from his chest. “I suppose that is how you feel.”

Hephzibah gave a wet chuckle. _“Yeah, I guess.”_

“Listen, you are a very compatible, strong, intelligent young woman. There is no doubt in my mind that you’ll think of a way to help this family and find a way to make sure those little girls go home. You just need to take in a deep breath, relax, and go back to the data. Sometimes it’s best to start from scratch and work your way back, that way you might find something you missed or get a new idea.”

_“Wow, Fordsie, that’s… th-thanks. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”_

Stanford smiled with accomplishment. “I’m more than happy to help you in any way I can. Is there anything else I can do?”

 _“Ya could tell me ‘bout your day.”_ Hephzibah suggested, hopeful that he would.

Stanford, understanding her need to be distracted, spilled into a short monologue about his day.

* * *

Even though he heard from her every other day and always on Sundays, Stanford missed his wife immensely. It was like a stomach ache that wouldn’t go away, but over time he became more and more used to it. From what Hephzibah said in her calls, the twins were steadily improving and by the end of Hephzibah’s scheduled trip the babies were in good hands and expected to be okay. As happy as Stanford was to hear about the girls, he was joyous to hear that soon the love of his life would be coming home.

A nice cherry on top of her arrival was the fact that Stanford had indeed grown a beard. It was short, but it covered his chin and went up to his sideburns nicely; it could grow out more, but it was a good start. He kept it nice and soft, and after getting dressed and finishing getting ready he studied his appearance in the mirror.

Before Hephzibah, he never thought highly of his looks. In his mind his nose was too big, his chin too large and solid, it might help if he lost his glasses, his hair was always a mess, and he kept his hands hidden if possible for a reason. And yet, Hephzibah loved all of those things. She constantly admired and played with his hair, massaging his scalp alongside his shoulders and back. She was always holding and kissing his chin, told him he looked cute with his glasses on, and when he had the courage to ask about it, she said she thought his nose was perfect. And Hephzibah, in Stanford’s mind, was breathtakingly beautiful, with her dark, smooth skin, lush black hair, dazzling brown eyes, cute button nose, and all of the above. So, if someone as beautiful as her believes with her whole heart that he was handsome, then logically it had to be true.

Stanford smiled at himself, truly smiled, as he allowed himself to see what his wife sees all the time. He supposed he did have a nice build from exploring Gravity Falls, a nice change from high-school. And his hair was nice when he took the time to brush it and care for it. And his eyes were attractive enough. And it was possible that he had an acceptable smile. Stanford, his posture straight with pride, was excited to see Hephzibah again, so he didn’t waste another moment in front of the mirror and he hurried to triple-check that the house was clean to welcome her home.

It was a little before noon when the Pines men witnessed their dog perking up. They listened and soon heard the roaring of a motorcycle. Everest jumped down from the couch and ran to the door to wait. Stanley and Stanford exchanged looks as they listened to the door open and close.

“Everest! Hi! Hello! Aw, did ya miss me, huh?! Huh?! Who’s a good boy?! Who’s a goodest boy?! Ya are, yes ya are!” Hephzibah cooed as she petted and loved her Saint Bernard. “Boys?” She called.

Stanley hurried to her and wrapped his beefy arms around her, pinning her arms to her side and lifting her off the ground. “Hephzie! Good to see you!”

“Sweet Lord, Stan, you’re gonna break me!” Hephzibah wheezed, but was grinning nonetheless. “I missed ya like crazy.”

“I missed you, too, sis. It’s way too weird here without you, and not a good way.” Stanley said while he put her down to look at her. His eyes widened. “Holy Moses!”

Hephzibah blushed, touching her hair. “Do ya like it?”

“Are you serious? I love it! You look great!”

“Thanks.”

Stanford, confused, finally left the couch to see Hephzibah.

“Now is Ford gonna say hi to me or…” She stopped and stared.

Stanford found himself staring at her just as much as she was at him. Hephzibah stood beautifully by the door in her black leather jacket and jeans, but instead of her hair being in dreadlocks and then tied up in a ponytail, her hair was now in its natural curls, all over the place and falling angelically all over her shoulders. It appeared that she had cut her hair while in Portland. Meanwhile Hephzibah was digesting her husband’s look now that he had a short beard.

Stanford grinned and walked to her. “Hephzibah, darling, you look beautiful. Wow.”

Hephzibah bit her lip, smiling, and began to giggle a little. “St-Stanford… ya grew a…” She covered her mouth, trying so hard not to laugh.

Stanford’s cheeks felt warmer than usual. He had expected a lot of things, but certainly not for her to laugh at him.

Hephzibah, seeing the hurt look on his face, explained herself quickly. “No, no, no! I-I-I just think it’s funny my idea wasn’t exactly original!” She laughed. “I wanted to surprise ya, but ya surprised me!” And she held her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut with laughter.

Understanding and agreeing that there was hilarious irony, Stanford chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, well, it seemed like a good time to try something new…”

“N’ I think ya look very handsome.” Hephzibah said earnestly and went towards him. Stanford met her halfway and they held each other, hugging. After a minute they released just enough to study each other; Hephzibah placed a hand on his cheek to see how his new beard blended in so well with his sideburn; Stanford held the hand that was up on his face and closed his eyes in peace, enjoying his wife’s touch. “It’s… wow, sweetie. I love it! Ya look… ya look incredible. So handsome n’ fluffy n’ soft, n’ yet so strong n’ secure.”

Stanford opened his eyes and smiled. “And you. Your hair is magnificent! It reminds me so much of when you were a child, all natural and free like your spirit.” And he petted her black curls with his free hand and she held that hand, too, reveling in his touch.

The whole day was happily spent on the porch and catching each other up. Though they kept in contact at least once a week, maybe more, it felt so good to talk about the little things like the change in weather and opinions on recent events and such. Hephzibah had the next four days off as a mini-vacation so there was no sense of urgency; they had all the time they could wish for.

Later that evening, when Stanford closed the door of the master bedroom and turned around, he found his wife grinning at him. He returned the huge smile and they met in the middle for a long and deep kiss, planning on making up for lost time. Kissing Stanford with his new beard was slightly different, but it was different and still Stanford and Hephzibah love it just as much as without it. She loved him just as much as without it. Stanford also enjoyed how free Hephzibah’s hair was now. Now he could run his extra fingers through her hair much more easily and it was like hugging a puffy cloud on his wife’s head.

When they had to break their kiss for air, Stanford asked, “Do you really think we have a better chance now?”

Hephzibah motioned her hand side-to-side. “We’ve got a clean slate now. I haven’t touched alcohol…”

“Neither have I.”

“... n’ I’m gonna start ovulatin’ soon. I’m not sayin’ we need a game plan, but…”

“If we’re diligent and focused and at least have a strategy, we might be successful.” Stanford concluded with a soft smile and he kissed her cheek slowly.

Hephzibah hummed in peace and had a hand in his fluffy brown hair. His kiss traveled lower, to her neck, and she had to look up and sigh. She then gasped when Stanford swiftly picked her up as he kissed her and gently laid her on the bed with him on top of her, on his hands and knees so he was hovering over her, but Hephzibah hugged him by his neck and guided him to lie on her so they could be closer.

When Stanford looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and happiness and that confident Pines-sparkle, he whispered, “I love you.”

Hephzibah smiled and swiftly kissed his cleft chin. “I love you, too.” And as she kissed him he began to remove her blouse.


	14. Baby Sister

_**January 12th, 1984** _

  
The idea of Stanford Pines becoming a father was ludicrous. 

For as long as anyone can remember, there were too many variables against it. Kids didn’t like Ford. His own nephew seemed to cry every time he held the baby; kids always preferred Stan, and Ford was fine with that. Children were too unpredictable and too much of a responsibility for Ford to enjoy their company without anxiety making him shake or tighten his throat.

For many, many years children never fitted well into the grand scheme of things. When Ford’s plan was to sail around the world on a boat with his twin, there was no suggestion of settling down and having their own families. Stan might have privately pinned that subject away and was open to it if the right “babe” came along, but Ford vetoed that from his life; who would want to marry and have a family with the six-fingered freak? And when Ford slowly changed his plans to bigger things, like college and science and discovery, the idea of children was laughable. It just wasn’t for him.

But then Ford started to date Hephzie and he fell in love with her. 

Hephzibah Cece was a compassionate, kind, strong woman who would make an amazing mother one day. She had a good amount of patience and a love for children that even founded her career in caring for newborns and helping future generations enter the world safely. Hephzie never hid the fact that she wanted kids, but she didn’t out-right say it for a long time, mostly for Ford’s sake.

Now with the potential of a family in front of him, Ford was forced to rethink his plans. Even before he married Hephzie he gave it some thought, but he pushed it away and wrote it off as “after his research” and “when they were more stable.” There were still too many factors that negatively impacted any chance of Ford having children. He didn’t want to risk passing down his birth defect to an innocent child. And he didn’t want to be like Filbrick.

Still, Hephzie had her heart set on having kids one day, so Ford managed to tuck that plan away for a few years, Hephzie content with enjoying the “golden years.” But after over six years of marriage and living in Gravity Falls, Hephzie brought up the topic, desperately wanting to have a baby, but with the portal and Bill it seemed like the worst possible time to start a family, so Ford gently turned her down and swore he would think about it after his greatest achievement.

True to his word, a few weeks after the banishment of Bill and the destruction of the portal, Ford had thought about it seriously. There were still so many logical points that said that having children was a bad idea. But this was something Hephzie wanted more than anything. Ford loved her so much and had so much faith in her, he had no doubt she would be an excellent mother and he wanted to see her be happy. That alone was enough to make Ford try.

But then other things really sold Ford on the idea. Hephzie said she wanted little Fords and Stans running around and giving the twins a run for their money, payback for their mischief back in their youth, but Ford smiled at the idea of more Hephzies in the world. Hephzie was one of the most incredible people he ever knew, and if he could help bring some of that into this world… Not only that, but it would be nice to have some fresh minds to teach. Ford could imagine teaching his own children how to read and write and all about the anomalies that surrounded their home. Ford could see himself making shadow puppets for them with his extra fingers and working on coloring books and arts n’ crafts and watching movies and taking care of any of their needs.

It was scary, but the more Ford thought about it, the warmer his chest got and the more he smiled when the idea came to mind. One last thing tipped the scale for him: his wife believed in him. Hephzie said she thought Ford would be a great dad, and while he wasn’t sure if that was true, if someone as amazing as Hephzie thought that, then maybe there was a teeny tiny chance that it was true. So Ford made up his mind. He was going to be a dad.

Now the goal taunted him, like a carrot dangled over a rabbit. So many times Ford felt so close, felt so sure that this time Hephzie would emerge from the bathroom with a positive test, that this month she wouldn’t get her period, that this night they would be successful and conceive, but it never happened. Rather than lose hope, Ford’s inherited Pines’ stubbornness kicked in and now he was more determined than ever to start a family. He read every book he could get his hands on and had Hephzie give her professional opinion. Without a fertility test, something neither of them had even suggested yet, all Hephzie could do was shrug and encourage them to keep trying. Ford trusted Hephzie and so they kept trying, but it became harder to hold onto hope as the months dwindled by.

* * *

Hephzie hummed a familiar tune to herself as she walked down the hall of the hospital. She had just finished checking on the newborns and a nurse was staying in the room, so now Hephzibah was checking to make sure everyone was taken care of. As she scratched her scalp and ruffled her black curls and readjusted her white coat over her black t-shirt and khakis, she glanced into the occupied rooms and knew the difference between the expected pain and a true emergency.

All was well and she was calm until she passed a room. She did a double-take and stared to find Maddie in a bed with Fiddleford holding her hand and Tate curled up in a chair, looking uncomfortable. “Guys!” Hephzie entered the room, determined to be the level-headed and cam one in the room. “Good to see ya! Congrats!”

“Thanks,” Maddie said with a tired smile. “A few days earlier than expected, but I’ll be glad when she’s out.”

“Emmanuel is your doctor, right?” Hephzie asked. “He’s working a ten to ten today.”

“Yeah, nice fellow.” Fiddleford said. “Thanks for the recommendation.”

“Anytime, guys,” Hephzie checked her watch and said, “I’m on the clock until five. Why don’t I take Tate off your hands n’ call the boys over here?”

“That would be very helpful, thanks.” Maddie said.

“C’mon, sweetie, I’ll show ya the cool room.” Hephzie said and Tate took her hand, ready for an excuse to leave; he didn’t like it when his mom was hurting.

Hephzie’s “cool room” proved to be the break room where she gave Tate an apple and a chocolate milk (she’d have to replenish Gabe’s stash later) for him to snack on while she called Stan and Ford. The phone rang a few times and she was greeted by a casual, “ _Y’ello, Stan Pines here._ ”

“Stan, it’s Hephzibah.”

“ _Oh hey sis, whazzup?_ ”

“Maddie’s here n’ she havin’ the baby.”

“ _What?! I thought she wasn’t due for two more weeks!_ ”

“Stanley, babies almost never come on their due dates.” Hephzie chuckled at Stan’s innocence on the matter.

“ _Then why do they even bother making due dates?!_ ”

“If you’re too freaked out, can ya hand the phone to your brother?”

“ _Shaddup_.” Stan teased back. “ _Alright alright, we’ll be right over.”_

“Great. I’m still on the clock n’ somebody’s gotta watch Tate. Mind bringing a change of clothes when ya come?”

“ _Yeah, sure, just a comfortable top, right?_ ”

“Right. Thanks Stan.”

“ _Sure thing. See you soon._ ”

Stan hung up the phone and shouted over to his brother, who was in the thinking parlor reading a book. “OY! SIXER!”

Ford looked up from his book. “Yes!” No answer. Ford raised his eyebrow and shouted back a little louder. “YES!” No call back. Ford slammed his book down on the couch and growled in his throat as he left the room; Stan sometimes pulled the same trope their mother did and would call for them but refuse to call back, making whoever they wanted leave their comfort and go to them. Ford found Stan in the kitchen and asked, “What?”

“Maddie’s having the baby, get your wife a comfy top and let’s go.” Stan said.

“You couldn’t have told me that when I was close to our room?” Ford asked as he walked back.

“Yeah but now I don’t have to worry about you saying ‘five more minutes’ and then I end up waiting in the car for an hour.”

“Fair enough.” Ford sighed and entered his bedroom to pick out a soft purple long-sleeve for Hephzie to change into while they babysat Tate and waited for his little sister.

* * *

Stanford had his hands in his pockets as he watched the rows of babies before him. One of them caught his eye, a boy who was wide awake with mittens over his tiny hands. The boy was caucasian with jet-black hair that was already grown into a tiny bit of fuzz. The baby’s eyes were baby-blue and open and observant, and eventually landed on Stanford. The young author smiled and wiggled his fingers at the baby. A newborn can’t smile, but Stanford could have sworn he saw the baby’s eyes sparkled and he wondered if the baby would have smiled if capable.

Stanford looked at all of the babies. Most of them had parents or family members watching them through the big window, on Stanford’s right as he stood at the very far end, and some babies were alone for a little while. Seeing no cribs that represented twins, that meant for each baby two people were going home with a new member of their family. No wait, at the very back there was a pair of girl cribs marked with matching last names. It was so unfair; Stanford didn’t even have one and a couple in this hospital got to have two.

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there, lost in thought, but it must have been a long time because Hephzibah came around the corner, looking around as if she had set herself on a mission to find him. When she saw his back and gathered what her husband was doing, she smiled softly and stepped next to him, holding his arm and resting her head on his shoulder gently. “Ya know if ya want one so badly, I’ve got my ID card. We can run in n’ get one.”

Stanford snorted. “Believe me, I’m tempted.” It sounded like he was only half-joking.

Hephzibah looked up at him and rubbed his limb. “Everythang okay?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath. “It’s been almost a year since we’ve started trying.” Stanford said quietly as he looked down at her and covered one of her hands with his. “Not quite eleven months, but…” And he trailed off.

Hephzibah sighed and hugged his arm. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Stanford moved his arm free from her grip to hug her, and she hugged him back with her eyes closed. “I know you’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Ya want this, too, honey.”

“You’ve wanted it longer than I have.” Stanford said darkly. “Of course when I actually thought I should…” Was this voice getting lower? Or thicker with emotion?

“Hey, hey,” Hephzibah whispered. She put a hand to his cheek and grazed his beard with her thumb. He covered her hand and nuzzled the side of his face against her soft palm. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get pregnant n’ have our own baby one of these days. We just…”

“... have to be patient?” Stanford asked, sounding slightly irritated by the statement Hephzibah has used a handful of times.

“... have to… erm... not worry about the future.” Hephzibah improvised.

“Nice save.” Stanford smirked at her and brought her hand to his lips. She then moved closer and kissed his lips lightly. It accidentally became deeper and more passionate, with Hephzibah’s hand moving up to his hair, and his strong hands on her hips.

“N’ hey, I’m ovulatin’ right now…”

“I know. I’ve been tracking your cycle.” And Stanford pulled out a tiny calendar marked with red, blue, and green dots to prove it. Hephzibah’s jaw dropped as she smiled, impressed. “Blue is for when you’re ovulating, red is for shark week, and green is for the rest.”

“Wow, you’re done your homework, Brianiac.” Hephzibah said as she took the calendar and flipped ahead to upcoming months. “Oh, shoot, I’ll be on my period on Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes, but you won’t start until the 13th and on the 12th Stan is taking a day trip to Portland.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m making him.”

Hephzibah laughed and handed back the calendar for Stanford to put back in his trenchcoat. “Anyway, so we can start tryin’ again now.”

Stanford blinked at his wife hopefully. “Now?”

Hephzibah rolled her eyes. “No, not now.” She paused, thinking about it, and her expression changed from amusement to amazement. “Well… we do have a lot of time to kill.”

“And we’re in a building full of beds!” Stanford pointed out. “But, are we even allowed to do this?”

Hephzibah kissed him deeply and held around his shoulders. Stanford kissed back and held her body close. When they parted, Stanford said, “You’re right, who cares?” And they ran off hand-in-hand to find an empty room.

Since Hephzibah had been coming to this hospital for seven years she knew her way around and led the way to a simple room with a bed. It was empty, so they hurried in, turned off the lights, and kissed with sparks flying before they even reached the bed. Stanford quickly took off his trenchcoat and let it fall to the floor, then he was gently pushed onto the bed by his wife and they grinned before resuming their kissing and Hephzibah laid on top of him, massaging his muscular arms and kissing his neck. Stanford couldn’t help but moan as she pressed against him and he was just about to remove Hephzibah’s purple long-sleeve when the door opened and a nurse gave them a disapproving look.

Stanford turned pale and Hephzibah swallowed, but quickly recovered and said, “Yes, sir, 98.6, you’re gonna be okay.”

The couple quickly learned that any empty room they found didn’t stay empty for long. The second room they tried they were interrupted by a screaming woman being wheeled in as she was going through a contraction, causing Stanford to fall off the bed with shock before the lovers even did anything. Hephzibah suggested the breakroom, but it was always at least one person in there so they ditched that idea.

Leaning against a wall, only a few doors down from where Madeline was about to have her baby, Hephzibah and Stanford held hands and racked their brains for some place private to have sex. “We could try the car.” Hephzibah suggested.

“And what if Stan sees us?” Stanford brought up with a shudder, his worst nightmare ever since they moved in together. 

“Okay… what about here?” Hephzibah asked and opened a door.

“The supply closet?” Stanford clarified with a skeptical look.

“Wanna wait until we get home?”

“Nope.” And Stanford pulled her into the closet.

* * *

Stanley hummed a stupid jingle from a commercial in his head, on his way back to the McGuckets’ room with a cup of ice chips in his hand. He had just woken up from a nap and probably needed a cup of coffee when Fiddleford asked him to go get the refreshment, and Stanley didn’t feel like having a shoe up his ass, so he left to go do the chore and then get some caffeine at the cafe on the first floor.

He could have sworn his hand was at the right door, but it didn’t realize his mistake until it was too late and he caught a glimpse of his worst nightmare.

“STANLEY!” His brother yelled and Stanley screamed and slammed the door all in one instant.

Stanley didn’t know if he was going to puke or not. He was an adult and definitely not a virgin, but he could hardly stand the mental pictures he sometimes accidentally cooked up when thinking of his brother and his wife, let alone legit memories of a horrifying yet natural event he had just witnessed.

Stanley settled to quickly delivering the cup of ice chips so he could wallow in the fact that he just saw Stanford and Hephzibah having sex.

* * *

Stanford, fully dressed again, was pacing in the little closet while Hephzibah leaned against the sink for washing chemicals off hands. She sighed and finally broke the ice. “We have to go out there.”

“Or,” Stanford said with both pointer fingers up and his hands trembling. “We could not do that. Where’s the bleach?” He then scrambled around the shelves of chemicals.

Hephzibah grabbed his hands. “We’re lucky we’ve gone this far without him walkin’ in on us.”

“I know, I know!” Stanford groaned. “Seven years and he walks in on us doing it on a bucket! But I would much rather jump into the Bottomless Pit than have to face him!”

“We can handle Stan.” Hephzibah said firmly and held one of Stanford’s hands and opened the door.

Stanley wasn’t right outside the door as his family had feared, rather he was leaning against a corner across the hall and on the other side of the lobby. The married couple walked slowly, as if walking towards their deaths, and then Hephzibah wheezed out, “Hi Stan, whazzup bro?”

Stanford stared at his wife, befuddled. “Whazzup bro?” He repeated in disbelief.

Hephzibah shrugged apologetically.

Stanley sighed tiredly and stood up straight and faced his best friends in the whole world. “Look, I get it. You two are together so you’re gonna do it, and I’ve always respected that, and I guess I’m lucky all I’ve had until today was a couple of moans and phrases I wish I could forget. I mean seriously, Sixer, ‘Make love to me?’”

“Stanley!” Stanford scolded.

“Hey, you said it, pal, not me.” Stanley growled. “But c’mon! You two love birds couldn’t wait until we got home?! What, were you just that bored while we waited for the newest McBucket… GAH! I can’t even use that nickname any more!” Stanley yelled and punched his forehead a few times to try to forget what he saw on top of a bucket.

“It’s not like we wanted you to see that, you knucklehead!” Stanford snapped.

“Stan, we’re really sorry.” Hephzibah said with a hint of plea in her voice that her best friend would forgive them. “Ya know us better than that, we’re not animals who do it whenever, we just…” She swallowed, caught Stanford’s warning look, but before Hephzibah could rework her sentence, Stanley looked at the two carefully.

“What’s going on? Why are you two doing that creepy couple’s-ESP thing?”

The doctor and the author looked at each other, uncomfortable and unsure. They hadn’t told anyone they were trying, not even Stanley, for good reason. First off, it wasn’t anyone’s business, but it proved to be a good idea since they were having complications and they didn't really want to share that kind of information, but Stanley had always proven to be trustworthy, and after what he witnessed today, he had more than earned some answers.

“We’re…” Stanford choked. Hephzibah grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Stanford squeezed back and guided her to his side. “We’re trying to have a baby.”

Stanley’s face split into a huge grin that lightened everyone’s spirits. Hephzibah and Stanford smiled, thinking maybe they had been wrong to hide such news with their own family member. “Really!? Are you?! That’s great!” Stanley punched the air and ruffled his brother’s hair roughly and lightly shoved Hephzibah’s shoulder. “Well, get back in there! I’ll guard the door!”

Stanford and Hephzibah were suddenly horrified as Stanley gestured to the closet, not a hint of joking could be seen anywhere. “What?” They said hoarsely simultaneously.

“C’mon, go make me a niece or nephew!”

“Stanley!” Stanford’s face was now completely red.

“We’ll just do it later.” Hephzibah said quietly as she held her husband’s arm.

“Well wait, sis, aren’t you ovulating?”

“How do you know that?!”

“I track your cycle so I know when to get hydrogen peroxide for laundry.” Stanley explained casually.

“Oh my God.” Hephzibah moaned.

“Hey, guess that’s whatcha two get for being bitten by the baby bug.” Stanley joked and punched Stanford’s shoulder. “What, being stuck here finally made you think about kids, Poindexter?”

“No.” Stanford snapped. Stanley looked caught off guard by his twin’s tone and with a squeeze of his hand Stanford knew it was okay to be completely honest with Stanley. “We’ve… we’ve been trying for a while. That’s why we didn’t wait until we returned home.”

Stanley’s face dropped as he finally understood and he saw the disappointed and shameful looks on his family. “Oh. Hey now, that’s… it’s okay.”

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell ya.” 

“I’m not mad or anything, sis, I get it.” Stanley said calmly, and in normal Stan Pines’ fashion, added with a smile, “From the positions I saw in there I think you really did it this time…”

“I’m this close to blowing my brains out.” Stanford held his fingers so close together they were almost touching and then covered his eyes with his hand.

“Hephzie!” A voice called happily and the three Pines looked in the same direction to find a doctor with square glasses and spiky black hair waving and walking up to them.

“Hey, Hughes.” Hephzibah greeted, happy to have changed the subject. “How’s Maddie?”

“She’s great.” Emmanuel said with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “She and the baby are perfectly healthy.”

“It’s here?!” Stanley gasped.

“She’s here, yes.” Emmanuel chuckled.

“YES!” Stanley punched the air and Stanford and Hephzibah hugged in celebration.

“Thanks, Emmanuel.” Hephzibah took the time to say.

“Hey, it’s only my job.” The doctor waved away her complement, but appreciated it nonetheless. “Just be sure to send me their address so I can mail those old girl clothes I told you about.”

“Will do, thank ya so much.” Hephzibah waved her colleague goodbye and added to her boys, “Let’s give ‘em some space before we pay a visit.”

The twins nodded and moved to where Tater was huddled in a chair and reading a book, then happily shared the news that Tater had a sister. He only buried his head deeper into the book; he had not been thrilled that he was receiving a sibling instead of a dog and the baby being a girl just added insult to injury. Tater knew better than to “fuss” about it, but if he was allowed to truly speak his mind, he hated getting a sister and just wanted this whole thing to be over.

After half an hour or so, Hephzibah led the way to the room, Tater holding Stanley’s hand reluctantly. Hephzibah gently knocked on the door and peeked in. “Hey,” She said quietly. “Up for visitors?”

“O’course.” Madeline’s voice said, slightly louder than Hephzie’s, but not quite at normal level. “C’min.”

The room was a little dim with the window’s blinds open to showcase a winter’s evening, the moon leaking in pleasant light, and one set of lights turned on, but the rest were off so the newborn could sleep soundly. The Pines smiled at their friends, the new parents beaming; even Madeline, as tired as she looked, glowed with joy with her arms around her bundle.

“Hey there, son,” Fiddleford said, his eyes on Tater as the boy looked uncomfortable in the room. “How you doin’?”

Tater shrugged. “M’okay. You okay, Mama?”

Madeline smiled at the six-year-old. “Yes, m’fine, baby. C’mere, there’s someone ya outta meet.”

Stanley let go of his hand and patted his head to assure him that it was okay. Tater kept his hands behind his back and looked down at his slow-moving feet, but he did manage his way over to Fiddleford’s arms and he hugged his father tightly. Fiddleford rubbed circles into his back and held Tater so he could look down at the baby.

“This here your sister,” Fiddleford said soothingly. “Carleen.”

“How beautiful.” Hephzibah muttered and had her clapped hands together by her trembling lips.

“You see this every day, sis.” Stanley hissed so quiet that the distracted family didn’t hear.

“Yeah, but this is family.” Hephzibah whispered back, her voice a little thick with emotion.

Fiddleford smiled up at his friends and freed a hand to motion them over. “Y’all are more than welcome t’get a closer look.”

Hephzibah, Stanford and Stanley happily slowly walked up to the bed and looked down at the baby. She was beautiful. She looked so much like Tater when he was born, a perfect blank slate for when he grew up and decided on who he wanted to be. The baby girl slept soundly, a little drool leaving her mouth, an almost-snoring sound oozing from her parted lips.

“She’s beautiful.” Stanford admired with a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“She’s perfect.” Hephzibah added.

“I knew you two made good looking kids, but geez,” Stanley chuckled with his arms crossed over his shoulder. “She’s… wow…”

Madeline smiled at her son and asked him, “Do ya wanna hold Carleen, sweetie?”

Tate paled at the idea. He shook his head and tightened his hold on Fiddleford a little. “No.” He said quietly with as much respect as a distrubed child could muster.

Madeline giggled and instantly reassured him. “That’s alright, Tate, ya don’t have to. Wanna hold her, Auntie Hephzie?” She asked her close friend.

Hephzibah grinned and held out her arms. “I’d love to.”

With years of practice under her belt, Hephzibah scooped up the baby and then sat in the chair next to the bed. Stanford leaned against the chair and had his hands on her shoulders, looking down at Carleen. Hephzibah smiled at Stanford, who was nearly eye-level, before looking back at the baby.

Stanley was right; Hephzibah did this nearly every day. She held a baby and sat with him or her every day at work and she was used to witnessing the beginning of life. So why were her eyes tearing up? Why was her throat tightening? It was probably because, like Hephzibah said, this was family; and because her husband was with her, looking at the baby just as hungrily as she was; and because this was the closest to their goal they had been since they began trying; and Hephzibah dared to wonder if this would ever be the closest thing they would ever have to their goal.

Hephzibah swallowed to try to be rid of the knot in her throat, being unusually quiet to hide her struggling voice. She met eyes with Stanford and she was surprised to find that same sadness on his face; he looked how she felt, and she bet she looked how he felt. Stanford gave her a soft smile and kissed her forehead; Hephzibah was powerless and couldn’t keep her smile away and they both went back to admiring the baby who was as good as their niece.

Fiddleford and Madeline didn’t miss that little interaction. They also exchanged looks, but they had accidentally misinterpreted grief and sadness as being overwhelmed and they theorized that their friends were considering having kids.

* * *

“You okay there, Ford?”

The young investigator glanced up at his twin, who stood next to him at the coffee machine. Ford resumed mixing some sugar into his beverage and said, “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Stan shrugged. “You’ve been quiet ever since you saw Carleen. Something on your mind?”

Ford shrugged; he wasn’t going to deny the fact that a lot was on his mind, but there was no point in addressing it right now; there were more important things to focus on right now. “It’s a joyous occasion, Stanley. I won’t ruin it for anyone.”

“Whoa, hey,” Stan grabbed Ford’s arm to stop him from walking away and the younger twin gave a hard look with soft eyes, a perfect combination that told Ford he needed to talk to him and that it was safe to do so. “Nothing you’re going through can ruin all of this, you got it?”

Ford nodded slowly and Stan let go of his arm when he was sure his idiot brother wasn’t going to walk away. “I know. Believe me, this isn’t like before. But today has been hard for me and right now I’m mentally tired, but I still want to enjoy today and let others do so as well. So for the time being can we simply let a good thing be, please?” He asked gently.

“Yeah, sure thing, Sixer.” Stan said reassuringly and walked with him out of the cafeteria. “I didn’t mean for you to spill something you don’t wanna spill. I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay with all of this happening, you know? It’s not really any of my business what you and your wife are doing, but I’m always here if you wanna talk to somebody that ain’t Hephzie.”

Ford smiled tiredly. “I know you are. And I’m sorry we kept it a secret from you. It’s not that we didn’t trust you; we first planned on surprising you, but then we never had a surprise ready to give and it slowly manifested into this… dilemma we’ve been facing.”

“So, how long have you and Hephzie been trying to have a kid?” Stan asked hesitantly, making it clear that Ford didn’t have to answer.

Ford sipped his coffee. “Since the end of February.”

Stan winced. “Aw, geez, Ford, I’m real sorry.”

Ford shrugged. “We’ll keep trying. I don’t think we’re ready to give up any time soon. I’m not.”

“Good. You can’t throw in the towel when it comes to something as important as this.” Stan confirmed with a nod. “Well, what does the doc say about it?”

Ford chuckled for a moment over Stan’s nickname for Hephzie and then said, “She specializes in newborns’ development, not their conception. Though she does know a bit about it. She says it’s not uncommon for couples to struggle and that it’s natural for it to take some time, mostly four to six months.”

“Sure.”

“She says we just have to be patient, and there are some methods we can try and have been attempting. Increased consumption of water, more vitamins, healthier diets.”

“And here I dared to fear you two were becoming kale-loving hippies or something.” Stan laughed, the sudden increase in healthier foods suddenly making sense. While Ford chuckled and shook his head, his brother added, “Well, you’ll get there one day, and when you do you two will be great parents.”

Ford looked at his twin to try to detect a fib that was only designed to make him feel better, but Stan was genuine in his compliment, casually sipping his coffee. Ford smiled; as many times as Hephzie told him this, it was still hard to believe it, and hearing it from someone he admires really helped him consider it to be true. “Thank you, Stanley. And I promise, when we are successful, you’ll be the first to know about it.”

Stan grinned at that. “Hey, thanks Sixer. And seriously, no hard feelings about the secrets. I get it, you two are gonna have some things that are just between you two - and some things I don’t wanna know, ‘k! - but if you two ever wanna talk to somebody just to get it off your chest or whatever, you can trust me.”

“We do trust you.” Ford patted his shoulder reassuringly. “More than anyone else on Earth.”

“Bad decision, but thanks.”

Ford shoved his shoulder jokingly and they entered the McGuckets’ hospital room to offer to take Tate home.


End file.
